


Afterlife

by Clea2011



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Clones, Drowning, M/M, Near Future, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 123,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: It was the photo that first caught Arthur’s attention.  And then he read the accompanying advertisement:"Meet Jacob.He’s everything you could possibly want him to be, and more.  The help you always wanted.  Living, breathing, he can do anything a real human being can do.  He’ll cook, clean, take care of your every whim, without complaint.  He is the perfect companion. And he could be yours.Ever wanted to replicate a loved one who has sadly passed? Need help in the home?  Or do you simply just want companionship?  Look no further, with our bespoke range of Unique Clones ™, all your problems are solved. You can consign your tired, old-fashioned robot to the recycling.Our clones won’t answer back, they will never complain, they are almost too good to be true…"
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 227
Kudos: 174
Collections: After Camlann Big Bang, Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Is Your Heart Still Beating?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4906906) by [Clea2011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011). 



> Firstly, warnings - Please heed the tags. There is major character death but it is temporary. If you are unsure about this, have a look at the ficlet which this is a ridiculously long re-write of: [Is Your Heart Still Beating?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4906906.html) You do not need to have read that - it takes place several chapters into this fic so is slightly spoilerish I suppose.  
> This is set in an alternative very near future. 
> 
> Many thanks, first of all to Merls who agreed to art for this way back in 2016 and has stuck with me for four years waiting for some of the gorgeous art here to see the light of day. I'm so pleased that everyone else can see it too at last.  
> Huge thanks to Camelittle, Tari Sue and LFB who have all been beta reading this monster for me and picking up on the numerous errors that I've made. Thanks also to Fifty, Polo and Sknits who have been a huge support over the past few weeks while I've been trying to get this thing finished. And finally thanks to the mods for running this fest and being so patient with my lateness.  
> One year I will finish on time. Maybe.  
> This is also for HC bingo round 11 square - Rescue

Ealdor.

Sometimes Merlin thought it might be the most boring place on the planet. There was nothing there. Even the nearest cinema was a 40 minute bus ride away, and that bus only ran four times a day. It was a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Or Wales, which was much the same thing as far as Merlin was concerned.

Still, a few more months and he would be out of there. He had a place at university waiting for him, a whole new life ahead where he wouldn’t have to keep his magic hidden. His A-levels were behind him, and he’d interviewed so well that he wasn’t even going to need to have done completely brilliantly with his grades, though of course he still needed decent passes. And then there would be years of study, not just of medicine but of magic too, and then hopefully an amazing career at the end of it.

Or, at worst, even if there was no glittering career at least he’d be out in the world, away from Ealdor. Working in McDonalds, possibly. But there would be people and life, and it would be a world away from the sleepy little Welsh village.

He’d travelled before, of course. Every Monday for the past seven years he’d had to catch a bus at the crack of dawn to get to the nearest school, then in recent times had to get up even earlier to get to college. But soon there would be campus and lie-ins, and new people to meet. People that he hadn’t known for his entire life.

Talking of which…

Will, his best friend, confidant and partner in crime was banging on the window of the tiny village shop where he worked, trying to get Merlin’s attention. Merlin could see Will’s boss, old Mr Simmons, glowering at him in the background and knew better than to make things worse by actually going into the shop. Once, Mr Simmons had caught them out the back messing about with the delivery that had just come in. He hadn’t actually seen Merlin doing magic, but that particular box of goods had been fireworks and they’d been… different. Spectacular, some said, but Simmons hadn’t really liked seeing his grumpy face explode in sparkles all over Ealdor that November 5th. And although he couldn’t work out what had been done he never liked Merlin hanging around the shop after that. Sure enough, a few moments later Merlin saw Will startle, look fairly guilty, and then quite obviously be on the receiving end of a lecture. A silent lecture, as far as Merlin was concerned, as all he could see was Simmons’ angry expression and arm waving, and Will looking increasingly harassed. 

It was nearly the end of the day, and Will would be off soon. Probably. Merlin headed for the pub, texted Will to tell him to meet in there, ordered a pint and prepared to wait. 

The Green Dragon was an old-fashioned sort of place. Once, a year or two back, they’d tried to go gastro-pub, putting fancy-sounding dishes on the menu and raising the prices. It hadn’t worked. Ealdor was too far from anywhere to attract the sort of people who’d appreciate it. The Ealdor locals just wanted beer and maybe a hotpot or fish and chips. Nothing fancy. The kale salad vanished, replaced by pie and chips, and those chips weren’t thrice-cooked either. They’d recently invested in a serving robot who went round cleaning up the tables, but it was an old model and probably had been on special offer. These days the modern city pubs all employed clones anyway. The whole setup meant there was never any chance of passing trade, which was just as well because any non-local venturing inside was always met with suspicion.

Suspicion, or interest.

The man sitting out at one of the tables in the beer garden that afternoon definitely fell into the latter category. Merlin could only see the back of him but that long, dark hair looked so thick and lustrous and silky… 

There was only one person who had hair like that. And they hadn’t been in Ealdor for nearly two years. Merlin could feel his magic start to tingle just at the memory.

“Gwaine!”

Gwaine Greene had been Merlin’s adolescent crush. Two years above Merlin at school, Merlin had only been able to adore from afar. Gwaine had always been kind to him, friendly to the few kids who had lived in the village with him, but they’d always all known that kids were all they were to him. Gwaine was older, more interested in his own friends. He’d spent the last year in Ealdor speeding around on a noisy motorbike most of the time, barely scraped through his A-levels and then headed off to a minor university in Camelot to take his degree because no decent uni would take him with those grades. He was probably back to see his parents, not that he was particularly close to either of them. The fact that he was already sitting in the pub rather than at home spoke volumes.

Gwaine turned, and Merlin saw the recognition settle in. He stood straighter, smiled. He was older now, and wanted to be sure that Gwaine saw that.

“Merlin? That you? You’ve grown.” Gwaine got to his feet, grinning broadly, and pulled Merlin into a hug, barely missing spilling Merlin’s pint. Merlin could smell the man’s aftershave, just a little too much of it. Nothing changed. “Hardly recognised you.”

Merlin shrugged. “Been two years, Gwaine. Be a bit wrong if I still looked like I was fifteen.”

Gwaine’s grin broadened, if anything. Predatory, Will always said, but then Will had never had much time for Gwaine. Merlin had always wished that one day the predatory smile would be turned on him, lingering, calculating. And now perhaps it was.

This could be the best day ever.

“So… you’re what, seventeen or eighteen now? Seeing someone?”

Nothing like getting straight to the point. But then that had always been Gwaine’s way. “Eighteen. And no. Not exactly a lot of gay men in Ealdor especially after you left.”

Gwaine actually hummed a little, still smiling. He hadn’t let Merlin go, his hand stroking at Merlin’s side. It felt good. 

“Eighteen… all sweet and legal then.”

Merlin could feel the heat rising in his face at that and ducked his head, embarrassed by his own blushing. Gwaine was looking and he could see the interest there. He definitely wasn’t imagining it. He raised his head, trying to stand tall and confident. Gwaine had always liked confident people. Merlin had never had a chance to be one of those before.

“Legal anyway,” Merlin retorted, proud that he managed to look Gwaine in the face when he spoke. He knew he was going to be sweet and virginal in Gwaine’s eyes whatever he did, but as long as it wasn’t so much so that Gwaine was put off.

Evidently Gwaine wasn’t because he threw back his head and laughed. “Right! Good one! So, Merlin,” he leaned in again and this time Merlin did spill a bit of his drink. “Why don’t you fill me in on all the things I’ve missed?”

“You’re not going to miss much in Ealdor,” Merlin pointed out. “Not even if you’re away for twenty years instead of two!”

“Been counting then,” Gwaine said lightly, his hand still gently stroking Merlin’s side. 

“Maybe. You here for long?”

“Maybe,” Gwaine echoed. “Think I just saw something worth sticking around to get to know better. Think that’s right?”

Somehow one finger had slipped just under the hem of Merlin’s t-shirt, brushing so slightly against his skin. It felt as if Gwaine had magic of his own. A different kind.

Merlin didn’t pull away, meeting Gwaine’s smile with his own. “Definitely.”

“Ah,” breathed Gwaine softly. “That’s how it is then? Glad I came back. Might’ve missed out on you and some other fella got in.” With his free hand he took Merlin’s pint from him and put it down on the table. “Let’s get rid of that. Say hello properly.”

Saying hello properly involved tongues and teeth and probably more touching than was appropriate for an early summer afternoon in the garden of a pub in a tiny Welsh village, but they were the only two out there and Merlin really didn’t care. Gwaine was back, he was interested in Merlin, and there was a whole summer ahead of them.

“Jesus! Get a bloody room, will you?”

Of course, Will had to appear and ruin it.

\---

Hunith Emrys could read her son like a book.

She knew when he was lying, because he always lowered his gaze, and had that little stutter creep into his speech again. That had been such a worry when he was small, but he’d grown out of it. Except when he wasn’t being totally honest with her.

“He’s just a f-friend, Mum.”

Hunith looked out of her kitchen window at the slightly scruffy individual who had just driven up outside on a noisy motorbike. He removed his helmet and shook out his hair, then actually flicked it back. It reminded Hunith slightly of an old shampoo commercial. She almost expected him to go into slo-mo next.

“A friend? Not a date then?” She didn’t miss the faint flush of red across her son’s face that he tried to hide.

“It’s Gwaine. You remember, Mrs Greene’s son? He’s just finished uni, come back for the summer to see his parents. And Will’s meeting us in the pub anyway.”

Merlin didn’t seem entirely pleased about that, Hunith thought, though she felt far more reassured herself. 

“Good. You boys can all have a nice evening.”

He actually rolled his eyes at that. Hunith glanced out at Gwaine again, who was almost at the door already. He was obviously a bad influence on her boy. Aithusa, Merlin’s noisy white terrier, was already at the door, barking excitedly at the arrival of a visitor, and Merlin called to him to be quiet. Aithusa gave one last yip, then obeyed, his little white body poised ready to spring as soon as that door opened.

“I’ve got to go,” Merlin told her. He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll try to be quiet when I come in.”

At least that was something, Hunith thought. He intended coming home and not spending the night wherever Gwaine was staying. 

The doorbell went, loudly, three short sharp rings and then a loud one. Cocky. No, Hunith decided as Merlin opened the door and Gwaine greeted him with a kiss, she didn’t think she would like the man very much. The same wasn’t true for Aithusa, who was trying to jump up in greeting. Gwaine patted him, but didn’t seem entirely enthusiastic. Not a dog person then. Definitely another point against him in Hunith’s book. Not that she was looking for them. 

“Hi!” Gwaine grinned at her, and then as an afterthought stuck out his hand to shake. “You must be Merlin’s sister.”

Hunith rolled her eyes. “And you must need your eyes tested. You’ve been gone a while, Gwaine.”

“Uni. Just graduated. Hopefully.”

“Congratulations. Hopefully. Merlin’s just about to start uni. Two years behind you. So, where are you taking my son?”

“Just to the pub,” Gwaine promised, obviously trying to look as innocent as possible. It wasn’t working, but Hunith could see what Merlin liked about him. Despite herself, she couldn’t help laughing.

“The pub. Well I suppose Ealdor doesn’t have a lot of venues.”

“No. And we’ll be good,” Gwaine added. 

“See that you are.”

“Mum…” Merlin whined in protest, and Hunith knew it was time to stop.

She took a moment to consider her son. He’d grown up in many ways, but there was still that sweet air of innocence about him. That friend of his, Gwaine, she could see he’d lost any innocence he might have had a long time ago. She knew the sort. Not a bad person as such, but he’d take her Merlin’s heart and swallow it up, then drop it carelessly by the roadside once he was done with it.

Well, having your heart broken was part of growing up. But that didn’t mean she wanted to see it happen to her boy. She made an attempt at straightening his collar, managing to resist the urge to grab hold of those ridiculous jeans and pull them up to his waist where they belonged. Aithusa had already lost interest in them all and wandered off into the kitchen.

“Mum…”

“Don’t stay out too late,” she urged, trying to ignore the way Merlin rolled his eyes at her fussing. “You know I worry.”

“I’m eighteen,” he reminded her. As if she needed reminding. How had her little boy grown up so fast? 

She forced herself to smile at Gwaine, who was grinning at them both. Gwaine’s mother obviously didn’t care where he was or what he did, but that didn’t mean the same was true for her Merlin. If the rumours were true, Gwaine’s father was a drunk and his mother was sleeping with one of Gwaine’s teachers. The boy probably didn’t have the most stable of homes. So she tried to smile more warmly at him, and push her concerns to the back of her mind. 

“I’ll see you later, have fun,” she said.

As the door closed behind them both, she suddenly felt an awful sense of foreboding. But that was nonsense, and she knew it. Merlin would be fine. It was Ealdor, a tiny little village.

What could possibly go wrong?

\---

Will.

It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t like his company, because Will was his best friend and always had been. It was just that Merlin was out, with Gwaine whom he’d always had a crush on, and Gwaine actually seemed interested in him now. Admittedly Gwaine had also seemed interested in the barman at the pub, and the girl at the next table, and some random person that he’d been at school with who came over to talk to them. And, at one point very briefly, even Will. Very, very briefly.

“Doesn’t that hair get annoying?” Will asked as Gwaine flicked his fringe back out of his eyes yet again.

“Better than having a bald patch,” Gwaine retorted. 

Will didn’t have a bald patch, but that didn’t stop him checking it out as soon as he had the opportunity. And from that point on the evening just went downhill.

“Don’t see why you like him,” Will whispered as soon as Gwaine headed to the bar. “He’s an annoying bighead. Loves himself more than he’s ever going to love anyone else.”

“You and Will,” Gwaine asked when Will got up to get a round in. “He’s bi too, right? You an item?”

“No!” Merlin said indignantly. “He’s like my brother!”

Gwaine just hummed, and smiled, and flipped a beer mat across the table. It fell on the floor and the serving robot immediately hurried across to pick it up and put it back on the table. “He fancies you.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Merlin blushed furiously, and Gwaine laughed at that too, flicking the mat again and waiting to have it picked up. 

“This is like throwing a ball for a dog. And trust me. I know the signs. Will doesn’t like me.”

“That’s hardly a prerequisite for fancying me,” Merlin pointed out, taking the mat away before Gwaine threw it a third time. The robots made him a bit uncomfortable. They were just too lifelike, even the cheap one in the pub, and it didn’t quite seem right to treat them like that. “Lots of people probably don’t like you. Husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends…”

“You cut me so deep.”

“Deal with it.”

“Fiesty!” Gwaine leaned closer, right in Merlin’s face, his hand resting on Merlin’s knee. “I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gwaine moved in for a kiss, deep and exploring, his other hand snaking round to the back of Merlin’s neck, holding him in place. Gwaine was a really good kisser, unsurprisingly. 

A loud, annoyed cough from behind them finally broke them apart. Will was standing there looking annoyed. 

“Give it a rest,” he grumbled.

And that, mostly, was how the evening went. They left the pub early, and walked back along by the river towards Merlin’s house. Both Will and Gwaine lived at the other end of the village, so it was completely out of their way. Neither seemed willing to leave Merlin with the other though.

“Surprised you’re not back on the bike,” Will told Gwaine. 

“I don’t drink drive.”

Will just snorted his disgust, and walked between Merlin and Gwaine.

“Anyone ever tell you three’s a crowd?” Gwaine asked. 

“Yeah, I heard that. Me and Merlin, we’ve been friends for years. So I guess you’re the crowd,” Will pointed out, making no move to leave. 

Gwaine laughed, and tossed his hair back again. It probably was annoying, Merlin thought. It would have driven him mad long since. His own hair was longer, needed cutting, but it was just scruffy and shaggy. Nothing like Gwaine’s locks.

“Don’t you live in the opposite direction?” Gwaine asked. “I can see Merlin home.”

“You live that way too,” Will told him. “Merlin can walk himself.”

It wasn’t turning into the best evening after all. Merlin had a horrible feeling that if the pair of them carried on much longer they’d probably start trading physical blows instead of verbal ones. Any romantic hopes he’d had were going to be on hold, at least for that night. Gwaine had already asked him out to a movie the following evening, when Will would be working and couldn’t come along. So it might be better to wait until then. Will obviously wasn’t going to leave him alone with Gwaine until that point.

“I could take a short cut,” Merlin suggested. “Over the old bridge. You two don’t have to walk me all the way home. I’m not a girl.”

“I like walking my dates home,” Gwaine pointed out. “Will, why don’t you run along now?”

Will just glared at him. “You’re not going over that bridge again, Merlin. It’s falling apart. There’s a reason it’s roped off and got condemned signs all over it.”

Merlin had walked over it just that morning and told Will so. Admittedly it had creaked alarmingly and there were slats missing from the middle of it, but it was safe enough. It saved a good 15 minutes on his walk in, so it was worth it. His magic would protect him if anything went wrong anyway. It always did.

“Bit of a worry wart, aren’t you?” Gwaine told Will. “He’s fine.”

Will looked over at the river, which ran alongside the path they were walking on. It had been raining hard the previous week, and the level still wasn’t down to the normal levels for that time of year despite all the sun in the recent days. 

“If it collapses…”

“It won’t collapse if Merlin goes across it all the time,” Gwaine laughed. “There’s probably just a couple of loose nails. We can all go that way.” He paused, then looked at Will slyly. “Unless you’re scared, of course.”

“It’s just a stupid risk.”

“Will can’t swim,” Merlin explained, wincing inwardly when he saw Will glare at him. 

“Thanks for that, Merlin! Fine, you go off over the bridge with him, see if I care. And when he’s shagged you in the woods and then dumped you, just remember I warned you!” 

With that, Will stomped off in the opposite direction, leaving them both to it.

“Oops,” Gwaine grinned, slipping his arm round Merlin’s waist possessively. “Looks like it’s just us. What was that about shagging in the woods? What woods are these? I insist we see them at once.”

“There’s a little copse on the other side of the bridge that you have to go through to get to my house.” 

“Copse? Like cops off?”

“Trees!” Merlin laughed. 

“Cops off sounds better. Lead me to this copping off place, Merlin.”

There was the bridge, up ahead. Merlin could see the yellow warning tape all around it, the barriers that so many people ignored because the bridge had been there for years and had always been rickety. Health and safety gone mad, Merlin always thought. Besides, he’d drunk too much beer, and Gwaine was right there and available and looked so good. Merlin didn’t even think twice about stepping over the tape. Gwaine looked down at it.

“Danger, do not cross?”

“I use the bridge all the time. It’s fine.”

“Yeah? It looks derelict. Maybe we should go round.”

Merlin laughed at that, poking him in the chest. “Scared, Gwaine? Look,” he climbed up onto the first step up to the bridge and bounced a little on it. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Now you’re sounding like Will.”

“Maybe he’s right.” Suddenly Gwaine was serious. “That’s _not_ safe, Merlin.”

Merlin remembered Gwaine from years ago. He’d always hung around with the cool kids, been on the football team, always getting into trouble for something or other. He’d always dated either the prettiest girl or the coolest boy. Merlin knew he liked excitement, knew the best way to hang onto Gwaine was going to be by making himself as interesting as possible. He was probably testing Merlin. Or maybe just not that interested after all. Merlin trotted up the rest of the steps and stood on the bridge. He tried to let his magic circle around it, testing it for weaknesses, but it didn’t really work very well when he’d had too much to drink. That didn’t matter, he knew the bridge was sound enough.

“It’s okay. It was just that bit in the middle that went rotten and you just jump over it.”

“Merlin…” Gwaine stepped up to the edge of the bridge but went no further, holding out his hand. “Fun’s over now. Let’s walk round.”

The beer was singing through Merlin’s bloodstream and made him feel reckless, like he could do anything. He could remember Gwaine at sixteen, climbing up onto the clock tower in the old school, refusing to come down, throwing spitballs at the people down below, laughing. Somehow he hadn’t got expelled but it must have been a near thing. But Gwaine had been a daredevil. Merlin was sure the only way to keep him was going to be by proving he was cut from the same cloth. He stepped back, out of Gwaine’s reach.

“Make me.”

“Stop pissing about,” Gwaine urged. “Come on, Merlin, that river’s pretty deep if you go in. I’m not jumping in after you, ruin my jacket.”

“You’re just scared,” Merlin backed another step further onto the bridge. He wasn’t near the part that had rotted away yet, he knew he was safe enough. For good measure he gave another little bounce, enjoying the way Gwaine actually blanched when he did so. Yeah, Gwaine was definitely going to see him as his soulmate after this.

“Yeah, because I’ve seen people go in. There was a guy at uni, halfway through the first year, on the swimming team. He got plastered, thought he could jump off one of the bridges over the Thames for a laugh. Still remember his face when they pulled his body out. So… get down from there, Merlin. I’m not seeing that again. I like your face the way it is, you know? Come on, man.”

“You’re worrying about nothing,” Merlin assured him because Gwaine really did look worried and had almost been pleading with that speech. But Gwaine was wrong. “I cross this every day. Look.” He turned and walked easily across, careful to avoid the hole, ignoring Gwaine’s swearing behind him. “See?”

Gwaine just stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then shook his head. “Okay, you stay there, I’ll walk round. Stay right there,” Gwaine turned to go, heading upstream towards the new bridge.

That was no good, Merlin thought. Gwaine was supposed to stay with him, not run off. 

“Gwaine?”

“Stay there!” Gwaine called back again. He sounded a long way off already, and breathless as if he was running. 

Merlin didn’t want to stay there. Gwaine had been the best thing that had happened to him in ages, and he wasn’t going to wait around and let Gwaine get distracted by someone else on the way round. His drink-fuelled brain told him that if Gwaine wanted to go the long way, then Merlin was going to go the long way as well. He started to make his way back across the bridge again.

It was strong enough, Merlin knew. There was just that bit in the middle, and he always jumped that. Always. It was just a matter of timing it right, pushing back with his foot on the last of the fixed boards and propelling himself over…

As he pushed down, he felt the board collapsing under his foot and suddenly he was falling, flailing, reaching to grab at the rail as the entire structure started to give way. Merlin felt the sharp shock of the freezing water hitting him hard as he fell, and then he was under it, going down too fast and knocking his head hard on the rocks.

He struggled to the surface, grabbing at the bits of broken wood that had fallen from the bridge when it had given way. Blood ran into his eyes from where he’d hit his head, and he tried to blink it away.

“Gwaine!” he yelled, hoping the man hadn’t gone out of earshot. “Gwaine! Help!”

The water was deeper than it looked, and so cold. Already Merlin was starting to feel it chilling him, or perhaps that was just the shock. He tried to strike out towards the riverbank, but the current was strong and started to carry him further downstream. Desperately he tried to reach for his magic, but he’d never had as much control over it when he’d been drinking and it completely failed him now.

“Gwaine!” he shouted again, and this time got a mouthful of filthy river water. Coughing and choking, he spat it out, and tried again to swim for the shore. It wasn’t far, but the river was already wider than at the point where he’d fallen in and the current was stronger. 

Merlin was a good swimmer, but his head hurt and the alcohol and the cold were making it difficult to think straight. He tried to head for the other side instead, though there was a steep wall there and no way up it. Merlin clung on, using it as support to help keep him afloat. Gwaine would be back soon, he knew it. He just had to hang on until then. But it was so cold…

Somehow, he lost his grip and had to scrabble to regain it. He was further down again, could hardly see anything in the dark but he knew he couldn’t lose his grip again. If he was swept out, the river went down to the weir by the park. There was an undertow, some kid had drowned there last year and it had all been railed off since then. Nobody would reach him in time. At that time of night nobody would even know he was there.

“Help!” he yelled again. “Gwaine!”

How long had it been? Gwaine had been running. It was quicker if you ran. It had to be ten minutes by now, he told himself. Any moment and Gwaine would appear. He had to.

“Help!” 

It was getting harder to shout. Tiring. All he wanted to do was close his eyes. It was so cold, and the wall was so hard to hold onto.

“Merlin?”

Gwaine’s voice sounded so far away. Perhaps it was. Merlin couldn’t really summon up the energy to answer him.

“Merlin!” 

That sounded closer. Merlin tried to look up but he couldn’t see any one. There was a light shining down on him from above, blinding him.

“Shit! Hang on mate!” Gwaine’s voice sounded full of panic. “God, there’s no way down! Help! Someone! Help us!”

The shouting washed over Merlin’s head. It was getting so hard to keep holding on. His fingers were so cold and they kept slipping over the bricks on the wall. Behind him something hit the water.

“Merlin! Grab hold of that, quick!”

Merlin looked around, lost his grip and went under. He kicked and struggled to stay afloat again, drifting too far away from the wall. Something nudged against him briefly.

“It’s right there, come on, take it!”

Merlin vaguely registered a life preserver floating in the water in front of him. He blinked at it, his arms working frantically to stay afloat. He didn’t seem to be able to reach out for it. His very bones felt cold.

“Grab it! Merlin!”

Gwaine seemed so very high up now. Merlin wondered how the wall got so high and why it was moving past so quickly. He wasn’t swimming, it shouldn’t be moving. 

“Merlin!”

In the distance he could hear a siren going off. Gwaine was still shouting, but seemed further and further away. And the noise of the shouting was being drowned out by the sound of rushing water.

He slipped under again, and this time it felt as though the water was pulling him down, taking him in. It took too long to reach the surface that time and he was coughing and choking on the water. Gwaine was shouting something about a weir, and that he was coming in. But all that seemed faint and unreal. The thing that was real was the water and the cold, and how very, very tired Merlin felt. He couldn’t keep afloat, not with the way that his entire body was protesting and the way that the river was pulling at him. 

Merlin fought. He had a life. He had a mother who loved him, a bright future. He was going to be a doctor, to save people. There was Gwaine, and all the promise he held. There was Will, who’d be lost without Merlin. There was the secret, fascinating magic that he’d never learned to control properly and now never would. There was his whole life, stretching out ahead of him.

There was pain and terror and water in his mouth and nose. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs felt as if they were bursting, burning. When he did breathe in, everything was water and it filled him, making him cough and choke and breathe in more. Water was supposed to be life. 

It was death, cold and dark, sinking forever beneath the surface. 

Gone.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur Pendragon had a life.

It wasn’t much of a life really, considering all the wealth and privilege that surrounded him, but it was a life all the same. 

Living right in the heart of Camelot city, the capital of Albion, Arthur rarely ventured outside it. Most of his days were spent working for his father’s company, Pendragon Robotics. It would be Arthur’s one day, as his father liked to keep reminding him, and it was only right that Arthur should work hard for his inheritance. Spoiled, entitled children had no place in Uther Pendragon’s world. He’d drilled a good work ethic into Arthur.

If Arthur’s sister Morgana had lived, Arthur knew Uther would have tried to instil the ethic in her as well. But Morgana had been wild and headstrong, and Arthur wasn’t sure which of them would have prevailed. He thought he would probably have enjoyed watching them bickering.

But Morgana was gone, overdosed at 17 when she couldn’t cope with the visions and nightmares that plagued her dreams any longer. Never a day went past when Arthur didn’t miss her. Their father never showed any sign of it, simply buried himself deeper into the business, and changing the subject when Arthur mentioned her. It was Uther’s way. He did the same thing if Arthur tried to talk about his mother.

These days Arthur didn’t really talk to his father about anything. Instead he spent his time in the labs, fighting to understand the increasingly complicated code that they were using on the robots now. Sales were down, and everyone wanted the new clones that were springing up from a rival company instead, despite the expense of them. Soon enough, Arthur thought, if the popularity of the clones continued then Pendragon Robotics would be driven out of business and there would be nothing left for his father and himself. But, in the meantime, he had work to do.

The Pen-291 range had developed a fault. It was only a minor one, but enough that five robots had been sent back that week alone. Something with the right arm in each case. Pen-291 was supposed to be the artistic line, supposed to be able to do portraits at will. Something was causing them to strike the artwork out at the very end of the piece.

He sat in the lab, scouring the coding for the millionth time, the torso of the robot lying on the bench beside him, plugged into the computer. He just couldn’t find the section that was wrong. 

“Raise your right arm,” he instructed yet again. 

The torso did as it was bid. Arthur had removed the head because it was just easier to work without that thing staring at him. So it was just a chest with arms lying there, one arm raised upwards obediently.

“Close your right hand. Open it again. Arm down. Arm up. Raise your left…” The instructions went on. And every now and then the glitch would occur. Perhaps only once in two hundred attempts. But it was there. The arm suddenly flung wide, reaching for something but there was nothing there.

Behind him he heard the door to the lab open, but didn’t bother looking up, not wanting to break his concentration. He was too far through the routine to stop and start again at the beginning because of a distraction. The lines of code scrolled past him, so much data. The problem could be anywhere.

Only when he’d reached the end of that section did he pause the screen, lean back to stretch, and then look around.

Dr Gaius was sitting over at one of the other workstations, three disembodied robot heads all lined up on the desk in front of him. Even though Gaius had been one of the main scientists on the original project and had helped write the code on the first models, he seemed to prefer tinkering around with the robots themselves. There was something about the eyes that he never seemed to be entirely happy with. Those three were no exception and he had removed one eye from its socket in each case.

“Still working?” Arthur asked.

“I could ask the same. It’s late, Arthur, go home,” Gaius told him without looking up from what he was doing. “You spend far too long here.”

“As do you.”

“I’m not 26 years old. You shouldn’t be spending all your time working. I certainly didn’t when I was your age.”

No, Arthur had heard all about that. Gaius, his father and all their friends and the fun they’d had in the times when they weren’t working all hours trying to set up Pendragon Robotics. Far too much information, some of it, Arthur thought. He didn’t want to hear about it again.

“So you’ve said. But you also worked round the clock on the original project and it’s not a dissimilar situation now. Our robots have to be perfect, immaculate, especially now we’ve got so much competition from the clones. So I’ll keep working until we find what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it, and Pendragon Robotics is going to going.”

“A lot of people don’t like the clones,” Gaius warned. “They don’t like the idea of flesh and blood servants. It smacks of slavery. Pendragon Robotics isn’t doomed, Arthur. We can move on, we’ve done it before. We still outsell clones four to one.”

“Because we’re cheaper, but clone prices are coming down fast.”

“No, it’s because there’s no ethical concern with our robots. Clones now, that’s a different matter. I would never consider buying one, and that’s nothing to do with loyalty to Pendragon Robotics. It’s simply that I really don’t like those things. I saw they’ve got one on the desk down at the medical centre now. I’m not convinced they don’t have feelings either. There’s no way of knowing. And it’s all just too real. Those things breathe, Arthur. They can be physically hurt. And they’re susceptible to diseases as well, they don’t last long. It’s only a matter of time before someone claims they’ve caught something off a used clone and they’ll all be shut down.”

“Morgana’s clone is perfectly healthy,” Arthur pointed out. 

Gaius froze for a moment, then very carefully put down the robot head he was holding, and turned to face Arthur. His lined face was deadly serious. 

“Morgana is dead, Arthur. We’ve talked about this. It’s not healthy for you to dwell on the past.”

“Sometimes I just like to see her,” Arthur admitted. “I don’t approach her. She looks happy. That man she’s with, I just need to make sure he’s looking after her.”

“I think it’s best if you don’t go there again. What would you do, if you thought he was mistreating it? It’s his property, bought and paid for.”

“She.”

“It. It’s a clone, Arthur. Whatever those might turn out to be in the long run it’s not Morgana, it just looks like her. And, as I’ve said before, I think it was very wrong of your father to have it created.”

Arthur’s sister Morgana had died two years earlier. Unable to cope with the visions that plagued her dreams, she’d opened her bottle of sleeping pills and swallowed the lot, washed down with vodka. They’d found her the following morning, far too late.

Desperate with grief, their father had commissioned a clone, apparently hoping that it would be his daughter come back to life. It wasn’t, it was a personality-free doll that smiled and nodded and did all the things that Arthur’s beloved sister would never have done in a million years. Uther had sent it back quite quickly. Later Arthur had found the clone had been bought by someone else. A fairly ordinary sort of bloke who had his own small fitness business. No ties to Pendragon at all. 

Sometimes, because he still missed her more than anything, Arthur went looking for the clone. He would just stand near the house, and wait. Eventually Morgana’s clone would appear, looking for all the world like an ordinary housewife, hair tied back in a loose ponytail, off to do shopping or weeding the little garden. The man seemed to be treating her well enough. Occasionally Arthur saw him too. Tall, muscular, but always with a smile for her. A loving smile, which she was obviously programmed to return.

Still, it made Arthur’s stomach clench every time he saw her so sweet and subservient. Gaius was right, their father should never have allowed her to be created.

“I just went to look,” Arthur assured him. “It helps me.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t comment on it. 

“It does,” Arthur persisted.

Gaius sighed. “Perhaps you should take a break, Arthur. You work very hard. When was the last time you had a night out? A holiday?”

“I went for a drink with Leon last week.” Actually it was probably nearly two months ago, but Gaius didn’t need to know that. Leon was an up and coming reporter now and always run off his feet at work too. Arthur still counted him as his best mate but it was a far cry from their close friendship at uni. “Satisfied?”

Gaius made a non-committal sort of noise that didn’t sound very satisfied at all, but he didn’t press the matter any further. “How’s the testing going?”

Arthur was happy enough to have a change of subject and immediately launched into all the theories he had about the robot’s arm problem, and a long list of things that he’d already tried.

It was work. He could talk about work for hours. Work, after all, had taken over his entire life.

\---

Two weeks later, and Arthur was having a night out.

Strictly speaking, it probably shouldn’t have been described that way, unless it was another attempt to pacify Gaius, who had again mentioned Arthur’s lack of a social life. The trouble was, the septuagenarian was often off somewhere after work and without question had a more enjoyable and lively social life than Arthur did.

And so, when Arthur had replied to the latest query with the news that yes, he was going out that night, Arthur had omitted to mention that it was yet another function rather than a relaxed evening with friends. Arthur hated functions. He loathed the way he had to dress up and smile and be charming. He despised the kind of people that he often met at them. He found spending the evening with his father, as was almost always the case, incredibly stressful. And, really, he just didn’t want to be dragged away from his work.

But admitting that last part would just make Gaius worry about him even more.

“Sir Uther Pendragon, and his son Mr Arthur Pendragon, President and Vice President of Pendragon Robotics,” came the announcement over the loudspeakers as they walked up the steps into the building where the reception was being held. It continued, telling the crowds gathered outside about Pendragon Robotics’ pioneering work in the development of personal robots, and how a new range was due within the next few weeks.

Arthur stood in the foyer at his father’s side and smiled politely as cameras flashed all around them. He’d done it so many times that he barely even registered them any more. Smiled, turned, smiled more. 

Sometimes Arthur felt as if he were one of the robots himself.

“Enough publicity yet?” he asked through gritted teeth. His father didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself. The sideshow continued for a few more minutes until someone else arrived.

“The competition,” Uther hissed under his breath. 

Arthur turned to look, and saw Agravaine Du Bois and Nimueh Lake gliding across the floor. Well, Nimueh glided anyway, elegance was something Agravaine would never be entirely capable of. The man looked entirely too pleased with himself, which wasn’t really surprising considering how successful his company had become. Pendragon Robotics, once at the cutting edge of the market, had been pushed into a poor second once Du Bois Inc had brought cloning into the mix. Gaius might think the cloning business would be short-lived, but Arthur wasn’t so sure.

“Let’s go,” Arthur urged, but it was too late. Agravaine had spotted them and headed straight over.

“Uther, Arthur,” he smiled. It never quite reached his eyes, Arthur noticed. “Always a pleasure.”

Which wasn’t true, and they all knew it. Technically, Agravaine was Arthur’s uncle. Ygraine Du Bois had eloped with Uther Pendragon, much to the dismay of her family, when they were both university students. The family had never accepted Uther, and when Ygraine tragically died giving birth to Arthur over a decade later they had never had any love for Uther’s son either. Uther had not cared what they thought, aside from the fact that the estrangement had hurt his beloved wife. He had built up Pendragon Robotics, made the company a massive worldwide success, and become ridiculously rich.

“Agravaine.” Arthur wondered how his father managed to make the greeting sound so cold, so disdainful. There was the way he shook Agravaine’s hand, taking it as if it were some loathsome and distasteful thing that he was soiling himself by touching, the shake brief and functional, and then Uther let go of the offending item as quickly as he could. “What brings you here?”

As if Uther didn’t know. Still, Arthur saw his uncle flinch ever so slightly before replying. “The same as you, Uther. Business. Of course, my clones are state of the art, whilst robotics are…” he looked to his companion. “What’s the term for it, my dear?”

“So last season,” Nimueh purred. “This year, the smart money has moved into cloning. By next year, our clones will be sending your robots to the recycling centres. Household waste and all that.”

Arthur had spent years developing those robots. They were a thing of beauty, works of art every last one of them. And there was no moral dilemma in their use. For all their artistry, every last one of them was nothing more than synthetic materials. He thought of the Morgana clone, grown in a tank somewhere, bland and insipid and yet so like his fiery sister in its looks. 

“Our robots are a thousand times better than your clones,” he hissed angrily. “They aren’t freaks of nature, mockeries of human…”

“Arthur!” Uther warned, but Arthur was warming to his subject.

“They’re alive,” he continued. “How do you know they’re not going to turn on you like a caged animal some day? How much control can you really have over something that’s flesh and blood? You can’t program them, that’s not possible. So…”

“Ah, but we _can_ program them,” Nimueh told him smugly. “They’re a blank canvas.”

“You’re saying they’re androids,” Arthur surmised. “To program them you would’ve had to replace the brain with a computer. They’d be robots but flesh and blood. As that’s not possible you can’t really claim to have full control.”

Nimueh just raised an eyebrow and smiled at him, saying nothing. 

“Oh, you’ll never get to learn the tricks our trade, Arthur,” Agravaine told him. “We’re hardly likely to tell our competitors.”

“Competitors?” Nimueh raised an eyebrow. 

“Be nice, my dear,” Agravaine advised. “It’s not polite to brag. Ah look, they have one of our models doing the announcing. That’s the Chloe 5 range, isn’t it?”

There was a beautiful young woman standing up on a small dais at the far end of the room. It was her voice that they had heard over the loudspeakers when they’d entered. Poised and elegant, she continued to announce all new arrivals. 

“Hard to believe she’s not real, isn’t it?” Agravaine continued. “That’s the appeal, Uther. The thing your robots just can’t compete with. She breathes, she’s warm, she’s almost alive.”

“They’re not alive though, are they,” Uther pointed out coldly. “You proved that when you tried to create one of those things in the image of my daughter. Come, Arthur, I see Dr Aredian over there, we should spend time with a real scientist.” And with that he swept off, leaving Arthur to follow in his wake.

Arthur didn’t particularly like or trust Aredian, but preferred anyone to Agravaine. He stood dutifully beside his father as Uther and Aredian talked about robotics and business, and charlatans like Agravaine. They went on and on, making no attempt to draw Arthur into the conversation. He felt as if there were no need for him to be there. A waiter walked past with a tray of brightly coloured drinks. It was one of the Pendragon robots, and Arthur immediately stopped him and took one of the glasses. It was likely to be a very long evening after all, and the drink would help.

The drink didn’t help. Nor did a second one, or a third. Aredian and Uther kept on talking, completely ignoring him. They had plenty to say about Agravaine, and Nimueh, and the clones. Arthur stood there,

“Arthur,” Uther said, turning to him suddenly just as Arthur had acquired a fourth glass of whatever it was he was drinking. It tasted like some kind of cheap champagne, with whatever the colourant was giving it an artificially fruity tang on top. Actually, it was disgusting, but it was also giving him a warm buzz so he kept drinking it. With Uther’s attention suddenly on him, Arthur tried to look alert.

“We probably should bring you in on our future plans now. Pendragon will be yours one day, after all.”

Arthur wasn’t sure he liked the idea of future plans with Aredian. A few moments later he was certain that he didn’t.

“Your father thinks we should merge our companies, make ourselves stronger against the opposition,” Aredian told him. “Rather than fighting on several fronts, merge Pendragon and Aredian robotics into one, then work on bringing together the more successful ranges from both companies. We’d do that. Both would benefit. I have some brilliant young minds working for me. No offence, but your Dr Gaius should have been pensioned off years ago.”

“Gaius is brilliant,” Arthur protested. “It’s his work that started Pendragon Industries up in the first place.”

“Mostly your father’s vision and money, Arthur, surely?” Aredian corrected, favouring Uther with a benevolent smile. “Ah, it’s good to see such loyalty to your mentor though, Arthur. I expect he taught you all you know. Probably time to look at more modern methods if we’re to beat the competition.”

“Gaius is getting on a bit,” Uther agreed.

That was rich coming from someone who had been starting to make early retirement plans himself, Arthur thought. Uther had stopped, and gained a whole new interest in the company as soon as the clone industry had started to take off. But they needed Gaius.

“I’m not working with a bunch of inexperienced kids,” Arthur told them. “I’d be spending all my time checking up on them instead of working.” He drained his glass and automatically reached for another. His father glared at him.

“I think you’ve had enough of those now, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t agree. The alcohol was warming and sweet and made him feel invincible. He could even stand up to his father. He took a large swig of the fresh glass, holding his father’s gaze the entire time.

“Arthur…”

“I can see your boy has a lot of growing up to do himself,” Aredian commented smoothly. “Why don’t you and I go talk privately, Uther? Let Arthur enjoy himself out here with the free bar. I took the liberty of reserving us a table for later, I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re a little early. We can talk business over their marvellous cuisine.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Uther told him. “Arthur, do _not_ drink any more. See if you can use that expensive education of yours to find out more about how those creatures work.”

“Creatures?”

“The clones, Arthur,” Uther sighed. “Apparently the place is heavily staffed with them tonight. Agravaine’s down as a sponsor for the event so he’s using it as some kind of promotion for those _things_. They’re robots, deep down, they have to be. So go and observe them, interact with them.”

“I hear the interaction can be quite enjoyable,” Aredian smirked. 

Arthur cringed when his father laughed at that. It was just wrong to have your parent laugh at sexual jokes at your expense. He wondered where the waiter had gone with that tray of drinks.

“Quite. Well, do what you need to, Arthur. I’ll expect a report on how you think he’s controlling them. Though of course please leave out any ‘interactions’!”

And with that both Uther and Aredian walked away, slapping each other on the back and laughing. Arthur scowled after them both but made no move to follow. An evening with his father and his father’s friend wasn’t something that particularly appealed. But then, neither was an evening by himself at a posh reception where he knew nobody that he liked, and liked nobody that he knew. Perhaps Gaius was right and he needed a break, or at least to go out and meet new people.

Although it wasn’t people that his _father_ wanted him to meet. No, never mind about people. Arthur knew he was supposed to study someone… some _thing_ like that impossibly beautiful woman standing quietly now because her announcements were done. Chloe, Agravaine had called her. She had long, perfect, shiny dark hair, huge blue eyes and an hourglass figure. Her waist was so tiny it looked as if it might be possible to snap her in two.

The waiter with the tray of drinks appeared yet again right in front of him. As Arthur exchanged his now empty glass for a full one, he looked at the waiter properly. The man was tall, with perfectly chiselled features. Far too perfect, just like Chloe.

“You’re a clone, aren’t you?” Arthur asked him. “I can tell.”

The clone just bowed his head and walked away, not answering. It was interesting, Arthur thought, because the robots always answered when asked a direct question. Why didn’t the clones? What was different about them?

The Chloe clone was still standing there, just looking around the room. Arthur went over to her, curious now. He tripped slightly, and hoped that nobody noticed. He wasn’t drunk. No. The carpet had been rucked up, that was all. He’d spilled his drink though. Luckily those helpful waiters were everywhere. For good measure, Arthur took two drinks this time and carefully carried them over to Chloe, smiling charmingly at her. Or believing he did anyway.

“So… you’re Chloe,” he said. “Chloe the clone. Clone Chloe. Is that your name? Chloe Clone?”

The clone blinked at him, long, perfect eyelashes. “I am called Chloe. How may I help you?”

“Chloe. Well, Chloe Clone, you can help me. I want to know how you work.”

“I work on whatever I am requested to. Today I have been announcing guests. Later I will assist with cleaning.”

She didn’t actually sound that different to the robots. Factual, clinical. Her delivery of the welcoming announcements earlier hadn’t been much better. Perhaps his father and Aredian were worrying over nothing, Arthur thought.

“That wasn’t quite what I meant. Here,” he handed her one of the glasses. “For you. You can drink, presumably?”

The clone took the glass and regarded the liquid within it for a moment, then carefully sniffed it and handed the glass back.

“That contains alcohol. I do not consume alcohol.”

“You really should try it.” Arthur tried to push the glass back at her, but she took a step back. 

“No.”

Obviously she just needed a little persuasion. He tried again, and this time Chloe flung it to one side. The glass shattered and people looked around.

“It is forbidden,” she told him. She looked quite anxious, he thought. Probably really did need that drink.

“It must be tough, being a clone,” he told her, leaning in close. “I mean, you’re supposed to have blood and everything… bleed. Do you really bleed? Can you cut yourself and show me? Is it proper blood, or…”

Suddenly there was a loud alarm going off. It was really annoying and penetrating. Arthur looked around irritably, wondering what had set it off. Probably some idiot smoking near a detector or something. Though it seemed to be quite close by. And there were two security guards coming over. Actually, Arthur was right in their path. He took a step back, helpfully. 

“Bit noisy,” he commented to Chloe, who was holding her wrist. Anxiety, probably, he thought. He definitely wanted to study her in more detail. She was fascinating. 

“Please accompany us to the exit.”

The two guards had stopped right in front of him for some reason. Arthur looked around, trying to work out who they were speaking to. And people seemed to be looking at him.

The noise stopped abruptly. When he glanced at Chloe again she had released her wrist and was standing watching him, expressionless.

“Was that an attack alarm?” he wondered out loud. 

“Mr Pendragon,” the guard on the left said. There was no other way to differentiate between them because they were completely identical. Probably more bloody clones. “Please come with us.”

“But I didn’t attack her. I’m a scientist. I wanted to know about clones.”

Ah, he’d asked her to cut herself, he realised. They probably had something built in, some self-preservation alarm. The damn things were expensive and he’d probably triggered something.

“Mr Pendragon, please accompany us to the exit.”

People were staring. Arthur could see Agravaine looking with interest, starting to head towards him.

“Okay,” he agreed quickly. His father would kill him if there was a scene. “I’ll just leave though, no need to accompany me.”

“We must. This way please.”

It was humiliating, and to make it worse a few moments later Agravaine stood right in his path. And, behind him, Arthur could see his father making his way through the crowd. It was shaping up to be a superbly awful evening.

“Arthur, my dear boy. What on earth is going on?” Agravaine asked. He was always so falsely pleasant all the time, Arthur thought. 

“Nothing is going on,” Uther growled, sweeping past him and taking Arthur by the arm. “Arthur was just leaving. He’s been working too hard recently, over-tired. Very dedicated. I’ll take it from here,” he added to the guards, who just stood there, unsure what to do. 

Agravaine waved them away. “Uther is going to take care of his wayward son. Excellent work,” he continued, more to the audience than to the guards. “You see how my clones have a self-protective element built in? Any form of threat from a list you yourself can specify, and an alarm is activated. This protects your valuable investment from malicious damage and ensures you can enjoy years of service, uninterrupted by the need for repair or maintenance. In fact, our clones are superior in every way…”

Uther hustled Arthur away, out of earshot of Agravaine’s sales pitch which was getting progressively louder and more enthusiastic.

“Can’t I leave you alone for a moment?” Uther hissed as they headed for the entrance. “Find out about the clones, I said. Not give that wretched man a chance to show them off.”

“I was trying to!”

“What did you do? That siren went right through the building. Imagine my shame when I realised who was the cause. Aredian was sympathetic, of course, but this is going to set back our negotiations a little. How can I expect him to have confidence in us when my son and heir behaves like this?”

“I was only asking about their blood. She had an over-sensitive defence mechanism.”

“Blood?”

“They’re supposed to be humans, or copies of humans. I was trying to find out how they worked, like you said.”

“You’re drunk,” Uther noted disgustedly. “You’re slurring your words. No wonder you set off the security alarm.”

“I’m not…” Arthur began, but Uther wasn’t listening.

“Aredian kindly offered to give me a lift home later if you take our car,” his father continued. “Try not to throw up in it. Go home. Sober up. I don’t want to see you in the office tomorrow. I’ve never been so ashamed.”

Arthur didn’t answer that. He wasn’t that drunk, whatever his father thought. Not as drunk as he’d like to be. His father had never been proud of him, and Arthur doubted that it was the most ashamed he’d ever been. There was that one time when Arthur’s grades in maths had dropped to a C, and that other time when he hadn’t got into the university his father had wanted him to. Of course, Arthur had gone there eventually, because money talked. And Uther Pendragon had a lot of money.

Three miserable years in an educational institution that wasn’t right for him and didn’t want him, and where he was struggling all the time to keep up his grades. Some people said that their university years were the best of their lives, but not Arthur. At least he’d come out with a decent degree, and had made his mark in the family firm. But most of that was because of what he’d learned from Gaius, not from the university. 

“You won’t let him sack Gaius, will you? He’s been with us forever.”

Uther frowned at him. “And you say you’re not drunk? Where did that come from? Of course I won’t sack Gaius. But we might give him a golden handshake. Lord knows he’s earned it. Wonderful man, but time to move aside. You should be looking to step up and lead that area now, Arthur. No more repeats of tonight.”

They’d got outside. Fortunately there were only a few journalists out there, and there didn’t seem to be much interest in taking their picture. Most of them were probably still inside and had got far better shots, Arthur realised as a car pulled up.

“Here it is. Get in. Go home. And sort yourself out. Find yourself a wife or girlfriend or something,” his father said. “Something decorative to hang on your arm at functions. Gaius has mentioned that you have no social life, Aredian commented on it too. God knows, you’re coming across like one of those clones yourself, the way you live.”

“It would be a husband or boyfriend,” Arthur corrected, not for the first time. His father just waved a hand, dismissive.

“Whatever. Just do it. You’re young, try to behave like it occasionally.”

It was a sorry state of affairs, Arthur realised, when your own father said something like that. But Arthur had a career, he was working day and night, no time for dating. If his father wanted him to take over his company, he couldn’t expect Arthur to have spare time too.

It was too much trouble as well, all the business of finding a partner. The disastrous first dates, the disappointment of the ones who lasted longer than one date and turned out to be awful in some hidden, hideous way, and the ones who seemed wonderful but just weren’t into him. He was, after all, the heir to the Pendragon fortune. Plenty of people were interested in that. Stick with Arthur for a few years, get a profitable settlement on the divorce. Arthur wasn’t stupid, he could tell that was all some of them were after.

He got into the car, obediently. Uther leaned in briefly.

“Remember what I said. Sort yourself out, Arthur.”

And with that he slammed the door shut and turned away. Arthur could see him striding back inside without so much as a backward glance. As the car moved away, Arthur sat back in the seat. He noticed the driver glance at him once or twice in the rear view mirror, but the man made no comment. Or, was it a man? Uther often liked to use one of the robot lines as a driver. Arthur didn’t recognise that one, but then the facial department had been getting more creative of late. It was probably a robot. He found he didn’t care.

Arthur sat quietly in the back of the car, watching the city nightlife pass him by. 

Even there, the growing clone industry followed him.

There was a gigantic advertisement hoarding all across the side of one of the buildings. Brightly lit, it was impossible to avoid seeing it. It showed a huge range of faces, male and female, every type of look that was possible. Pale skin, dark skin, blondes, redheads, brunettes… all of them slim and perfect, immaculate and smiling. It reminded him of his father’s robots, but these were something else. It was an advertisement for Agravaine’s clones, the new human substitutes. Real, breathing humans completely at your command, it said. But they weren’t really human, Arthur reminded himself. Grown in a lab, an empty shell with an electronic brain. And whatever that blood was. He really would have liked to test it, find out what made them tick. 

They’d stopped at a junction, and Arthur had time to sit and stare at the advertisement. And an idea slowly started to form through the slightly drunken haze that fogged his mind. Buy a clone. Why not? A Chloe of his own. He could study it, see what was so great about them. 

The advertisement spun on to the elite range, the unique clones that were created individually. Unlike the cheaper mass ranges there was only one made of each of those. No risk of running into someone else with the exact same clone. They were supposed to be absolutely, perfectly realistic. Empty shells, grown from human DNA and programmed to serve. Like a robot, but with a real, beating heart. Almost like a living creature. For Arthur’s purposes, it would be perfect. Not only could he study it, but if it was unique then nobody would realise it was a clone. It could, if it was as good as the advertising made out, stand in for the partner his father was so eager for him to find. It would provide someone he could take along to the endless circuit of receptions and conventions, at least until he was found out. And if it wasn’t that good then he had a way to undermine the competition. 

His father might never know. Perhaps nobody would ever know. 

There was no harm in trying it, anyway. He could always send the thing back if it didn’t work out.

\---

White.

Merlin knew it even before he opened his eyes. Wherever he was, there was light everywhere, so bright he could tell even with his eyes shut. Gingerly he opened them, squinting against the dazzling brightness.

His head hurt, the throbbing inside his skull was worse than any hangover. And he was so thirsty, his tongue felt as if it were twice its normal size, huge and swollen within his mouth. Vaguely he was aware of someone standing over him. They leaned forward, blocking out a little of the light.

Merlin gazed at them dazedly. It looked like a surgeon standing there, she was wearing scrubs, staring down at him from behind a mask. Not dead then. Just for a moment he’d thought…

But no. He was alive, he could feel his heart beating. It was racing, as if he’d just undergone a tremendous physical exertion even though he was only lying there. Someone had got to him in time, pulled him out of the river. Perhaps Gwaine had jumped in after him? It must have been Gwaine, there hadn’t been anyone else around. Merlin turned his head, but there were no other beds to be seen. 

“Is Gwaine okay?” he asked, but it came out slurred in his dehydrated state.

“What did he say?” someone asked from across the room. Merlin couldn’t see who had spoken, it was a man’s voice. English, well-spoken. Definitely not someone local.

“No idea,” the woman standing over Merlin replied. “They do this sometimes.”

Merlin licked dry lips and tried again. “Water? Really thirsty.”

The woman regarded him for a moment, then shrugged and handed him a cup of water.

“Sip it slowly,” she instructed, then turned away to speak to the man again. “This one’s not responding properly. Too coherent.”

It was cold and tasted so good to Merlin’s parched throat that he barely heeded the instructions to sip. The water was gone far too quickly and he held the cup out again. 

“Thanks. Could I have more?”

She blinked, then called over her shoulder to her colleague again.

“Come look at this. I think we’ve got another one.”

Her bedside manner left a lot to be desired, Merlin thought. A scarred man, wisps of dirty blonde hair escaping from his surgical cap, stood beside her, regarding him with curiosity.

“My friend,” Merlin attempted. “Gwaine, he was with me. Is he okay?”

The two medical staff stared at him. 

“Who’s Gwaine?” the man asked. 

“My friend. Dark-haired, couple of years older than me. He was with me at the river. He must have saved me. Please,” Merlin broke off, coughing for a moment, but there was no further offer of water.

“Who are you?” the woman asked carefully. “Do you know that?”

“I’m Merlin. Merlin Emrys.” He looked down at the white hospital gown that covered him. There was no sign of any of his belongings. “Has someone called my mum?”

The woman regarded him coolly, then turned to her companion. “The wipe hasn’t worked.”

“Wipe?” Merlin asked, confused. 

“So,” the man said, carefully. “What do you remember?”

“I fell in the river. The current was too strong, I remember going under… I thought I was going to drown. It felt like I did. It hurt… I breathed in and it was all water… oh god!” Merlin gazed at them in horror. “I can remember it! I couldn’t breathe! Oh! Where’s my mum? Why isn’t she here?”

He knew it sounded childish and stupid but he didn’t care. He wanted her there, to see her kind face looking at him with love, wanted her to put her arms around him and tell him everything was okay. Because it didn’t feel as if it was okay. The people standing there watching him didn’t look particularly kind or sympathetic. The man actually looked annoyed, if anything. The woman was regarding him as if he were a particularly curious scientific experiment. 

“His mum…” the man repeated. “Jesus. Morgause, if this gets out…”

“It won’t get out,” Morgause snapped. “Look at him, not a mark on him. He’ll be perfect. We do it again, just like with the others. Do it properly this time.” She glared at Merlin. “You’re a bloody magic user, aren’t you?”

Merlin froze, not sure what to answer. He’d always tried to hide his magic. It wasn’t as if he was any good at controlling it and anyway his mum had always insisted it would be dangerous to let people know. “N… No,” he stammered. “Why would you think that?”

The woman snorted, and turned away. “They’re always a problem,” she told her colleague. 

“Hey, I’m a magic user,” the man protested. “That’s why I was hired.”

“Didn’t spot this one though, did you? Double dose, level three. That always does the trick.” She turned towards Merlin again, and he could see she was holding several wires with little sensor patches at the ends. 

“What’re those?” Merlin asked, but she didn’t answer, just positioned the first one on the side of his temple. Merlin reached up to pull it away, but she slapped his hand away.

“Edwin, restrain him,” she instructed. 

Merlin twisted away, trying to sit up properly, but the man immediately pushed him down. Merlin still felt too dizzy and confused to put up much of a struggle, and rapidly found himself strapped down on the bed, his arms and chest restrained.

“What’re you doing to me?” he asked, but both of them ignored him. A second sensor was stuck to his temple on the other side, and then a third one on his chest. “What are those?”

Still no response, both of the medical staff ignored him. There was a trolley with what looked like a monitor of some sort beside his bed, and Morgause wheeled it a little closer, connecting the sensors up to it. Edwin was adjusting various readings on it. Merlin could clearly see the display go up from 01 to 03 on the front.

“What is it?” Merlin asked again, afraid now. “What are you doing?”

“Ready?” Edwin asked.

“Do it,” Morgause told him.

Edwin reached over and pressed a small green button on the front of the monitor. 

For a moment there was nothing, no difference. The 03 had slipped back to zero on the display, but then started to climb. 00…. 00.1…. 00.2…

Merlin could feel a slight tingling in the two sensors on his forehead. 

“What’s that? What are you doing?” he asked again.

00.3… 00.4…

The one on the left was uncomfortable. It felt hot, as if it were burning him.

“Can you stop?”

00.5… 00.6…

“Stop!” Merlin yelled, twisting against his restraints. “It hurts! Stop!”

“Oh don’t worry,” the woman told him almost kindly. “It won’t hurt for long. And it doesn’t matter anyway because you’ll never remember any of this.”

00.7… 00.8…

Merlin screamed.

\---

The second time that Merlin woke up, he didn’t remember who he was.

He stared at the white room, at the two people standing over him. He didn’t speak to them, not at first.

“What’s your name?”

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know. 

He’d had a name once.

When they questioned him further he gave them bland, empty replies. 

He felt dazed, confused. It was as if there was something that he should be remembering but couldn’t. It was like trying to think through a cloud of cotton wool. He sat up and somebody handed him a glass of water. He took it, drinking mechanically. Did that feel better, they asked? He wasn’t sure.

“Your name is Jacob.”

No, that wasn’t it. But arguing wouldn’t help him, he knew that instinctively. The two people in front of him who looked like strangers but familiar at the same time. They weren’t his friends, no matter how kindly the woman smiled at him. He didn’t trust her.

“Jacob,” he repeated, testing the sound of the word on his tongue. “I’m Jacob.”

She looked so pleased at that, beaming triumphantly at the man beside her. “You see? He’ll do fine. It always works in the end.”

“Not always,” the man told her. 

“Often enough. Now, Jacob, we’re done with you here. I’m going to take you down to the preparation centre, and there you’ll be programmed for your new role. You’re going to do just fine…”

Merlin didn’t feel as if he’d be just fine. There was something wrong, something he was missing. The woman was holding out her hand to help him get down from the bed he was sitting on. Warily he took it and swung his legs down. The floor felt cold beneath his bare feet, and he staggered for a moment before righting himself.

“Always takes a moment for new-borns,” the woman told him. “Now follow me.”

Merlin wasn’t new-born. He knew that much. But he followed anyway. There wasn’t much choice, after all.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

Clones.

There were hundreds of images of the things to sift through. Arthur had been sitting at his desk for hours, searching for his perfect subject.

It was internet dating, in a way he supposed, except the partner was made to order. And the catalogue of companions was vast, far more so than Pendragon Robotics selection. Arthur wondered how they managed it, how so many different types had been created. It was just as well it was online, because there was absolutely every kind of look in there. Far more variation than on the advertisement hoarding. Tall, short, dark, fair, slender, muscular… it went on. And there was the promise that certain models could be tailored to order.

But Arthur knew that if he was going to do this, it needed to be the right one. One that he could believably be attracted to, so that his father wouldn’t guess what he’d done. And if he was going to spend all that money then it had to be one that would meet all his needs. They were sex toys, after all. Just the same as the robots that Pendragon Industries churned out. Those might masquerade as home help, but over 90% of them had the sex programme loaded up within a week of purchase. Arthur knew, he produced the statistics. He had no doubt that the clones would be exactly the same.

The unique clones were in a smaller, more select section of the website. They were more expensive, too, more than ten times the price of the regular clones. He wondered which category Chloe had fallen into. Regular, probably, she had been a little too mechanical for his liking. And a girl. 

Arthur started to narrow his search. Males only, around his own height. Slender, dark-haired… the selection began to drop down a little. Arthur flipped through all of them, fascinated by the faces that stared out at him. They all looked so real.

There was an option to look at those ‘coming soon’ as well. That was quite interesting, so Arthur ticked that box. He wondered if he could pre-order, and watch the creature being grown in its tank, or however they were produced. He’d have to go in disguise, of course, using the fake profile he’d created in order to buy the clone, but it would be worth the trouble in order to get a better insight into the process.

That list was shorter, but still he was searching for nearly an hour. It was gone midnight, and Arthur was about to call it a night, when he found him. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned, with cheekbones that could cut glass and ears that stuck out a little too much. Somehow that tiny imperfection actually made him seem more desirable. The man’s face stared back at him from the screen. Arthur thought that perhaps his smile didn’t seem as wide as the others. There was something about his expression, haunted almost. 

Not _his_ expression. This was a clone, an it, and he would have to keep remembering that. Flesh and blood, yes, but the consciousness was entirely artificial. Amazing technology, and it was reflected in the price. But then, Arthur could afford it. His father’s company had developed a successful range of the robots. Not as profitable as the clones were becoming, but enough to make Uther Pendragon a billionaire, with Arthur as his sole heir. Arthur could definitely afford to buy a pretty toy for himself. And this toy was very pretty indeed.

He only hesitated for a moment, then pressed ‘Add to cart.’ After all, if it didn’t work out he could send it back for recycling and get a partial refund too. And Arthur didn’t need the money.

A message came up saying that the clone was still in development and that it wouldn’t be ready for several weeks. Arthur immediately sent a message back asking if he could pre-pay and go to see his clone being developed. He didn’t hold out a great deal of hope, but it was worth a try.

Arthur wasn’t surprised when he got an answer in the negative. Still, soon enough he’d be able to study the clone for himself in the privacy of his own home. 

The pretty creature gazed back at him from his screen. There was something a little disturbing about it. Arthur quickly ended the connection.

He hoped the clone wouldn’t be as disconcerting as that when it arrived.

\---

Merlin lay on the little cot he’d been allocated. 

He didn’t sleep, although he was feigning it. At any moment, he feared, one of the doctors would return and give him more tests. Or, worse, realise he was wrong and try to fix him again. 

That first doctor, Morgause, she’d been wrong about him not remembering. He had recalled it all within a day or so of waking up. But by then he’d learned not to show himself. He’d learned what happened if he did.

There were nine of them in that room. Unique, they were called. Four men, five women. All of the others were lying quietly, eyes closed, immobile. Those were just shells, he knew. Their personality, everything that had made them human, it was all gone. But then there had been one who had fought it, the fifth man. He’d argued and battled, and insisted he shouldn’t be there. 

They’d sedated him in the end and taken him away. After that it had been quiet. The others didn’t speak. Or, perhaps, they were like him and afraid to speak. He didn’t know and wasn’t going to risk finding out.

Merlin still wasn’t sure what had happened to him. They’d told him he was a clone, but he didn’t believe it. He still felt like himself, felt real. He still had all his memories. He’d seen the clones on TV, there were scores of them all looking exactly the same. They didn’t remember anything and weren’t much better than those robots. He’d even seen a few when he’d gone down to Cardiff sometimes. There was something missing from them, some spark of life that would make them completely human.

He wasn’t like that. 

The others, lying there in the room with him, perhaps they were like it. Merlin didn’t know. They didn’t get up or say anything. He wanted to go over to them, shake them awake and ask them if they knew what was happening, whether they felt the same. But he didn’t, because he knew it would give him away. Those medical staff would appear again and hurt him, try to wipe his mind.

Perhaps the staff earlier were right and it was his magic that was keeping him there? Perhaps he really was a clone, perhaps he’d drowned and it was some magical memory that the clone had inherited.

He felt a solitary tear winding its way down his face, but didn’t dare put up a hand to wipe it away. Staying absolutely quiet and still was the only way he knew to protect himself. Perhaps they’d send him away, out to one of those shops in Cardiff. If they thought he was under control, just like all the others. The shop would be less secure. There might be a chance to get away. It was the only escape plan he could think of and he clung to it.

\---

Arthur was tired, and he knew that it showed.

He’d been up all night searching for his ideal clone, had arrived late for work and been greeted by Gaius and that inquisitive arched eyebrow look he was so good at.

“Arthur. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Obviously word travelled fast. Arthur had taken the previous day off as ordered, but he’d had no intention of making it two in a row. It was boring, sitting around by yourself, even with the hunt for the clone to brighten it up. He’d spent most of the day researching them before he’d even started to browse the catalogues. Arthur wasn’t one to impulse buy.

“Lots to do. Did I miss anything yesterday?”

“Company share prices falling. Your father apparently had a lunchtime meeting with Aredian.” Gaius paused for a moment, his face full of disapproval. “He came down here later and more or less suggested it was time I retire.”

“Hope you told him what to do with the idea,” Arthur retorted. “Aredian wants to fill the place with kids who are just going to be full of themselves and their own importance and won’t listen to anyone.”

“Like you were when you first started working here with me?” Gaius checked.

He had a point. “That was ages ago. You like working with me now.”

“You’ve had your moments. But no, in answer to your question. I am thinking about it. Your father heavily implied that there would be a very generous retirement package, and considering what I’ve done for the company over the years I’d hope that would be the case. Whether I leave or not, those youngsters are going to be brought in. I doubt they’ll have your basic good sense, Arthur, or your work ethic. They’ll be chosen by Aredian, and I’m too old to tolerate any more foolishness in my life.”

“Do you think he’d let me retire too?” Arthur wondered. “Obviously I’m never going to be allowed to run the company now, with Aredian taking over.”

“You never wanted that anyway, as I recall.”

“I can change my mind, can’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Gaius said. “You might be better off out of it, especially if we lose out to the clone industry in the future.”

Gaius probably wouldn’t approve of Arthur’s plan, he realised, so didn’t mention it. Instead he settled down at his desk and opened up his emails while he carried on talking. “Clones aren’t the future. You’ll see. Now, did we find out what was wrong with that arm function on the Pen-291?”

\---

Days later, and Merlin was in a different room, still with the same group of clones. Each of them looked different from one another physically, but somehow they all still seemed the same. They stood there in rows of three, blankly staring ahead. He followed suit, trying not to show any reaction when the female doctor, Morgause, entered the room along with another woman he’d never seen before.

They weren’t going to hurt him again. Not if he stayed completely still. They wouldn’t even know. He’d discovered that early on. If he pretended to be a robot then that was the easiest route. No, not a robot. These were supposed to be clones. Robots were something else. 

The two women stopped beside him, and he resisted the urge to look round at them.

“Someone’s already bought this one,” Morgause pointed out. “He was only up for a few hours. Maybe we should have used his DNA for a general line instead if he’s that popular? Too late now.”

The other woman didn’t reply. Instead, she was looking Merlin over carefully, reaching out to turn his head to the side, then back. She frowned at whatever she saw.

“There’s traces of magic on this one.”

“There’s magic on all of them,” Morgause sighed. “ _Your_ magic. All the ones we resuscitated.”

Merlin’s heart leapt at that news, clinging to it while still trying desperately not to reveal himself. Not a clone then. Definitely not a clone. And the woman still looking him over had magic too, just like he did. He looked at her, curious. She was young, dark-haired and beautiful, with impossibly huge blue eyes. There was something about her that drew him, as if his magic could feel hers too. And yet, if she knew he was resuscitated, why was she taking part in this.

“There’s another’s magic on this one,” the woman explained. “It’s beneath the surface, lurking underneath mine. Who’s bought him?”

Morgause shrugged. “Some rich, anonymous bidder. You know the ones, Nimueh. Probably bought him as a sex toy or to snuff out. This one probably won’t last a week. We should harvest his DNA before he goes, wait until the signal stops, then grow some more for the general line.”

“Whatever,” Nimueh was still watching Merlin curiously. “As long as he’s not a plant. The robotics industry’s getting desperate. They’d try anything.”

It was hard not to react to what Morgause was saying, to react to his possible fate. But if he’d been bought, and they thought he was a complacent clone, surely there would be a chance to escape before anything happened. It might be his only way out.

“No plant would put themselves through that. He was dead, Nimueh. Drowned. Finished. You know it, I know it. If they were wrong about what we’re doing then their man would have just died? Too big a risk, no matter how much they paid him. No, he’s genuine and we’ve got a great price for him, there wasn’t even any haggling.”

Nimueh peered into Merlin’s eyes. He gazed back at her, trying not to so much as blink. Nothing that would give her a clue that he was still in there.

“I’d like to run a few tests. When’s he being shipped?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fine. Put him in holding and I’ll have a look later. We can’t be too careful on this, Morgause. You know if anyone found out what we’ve been doing there’d be trouble. I wish we could find a way to grow the clones faster, then we wouldn’t have to keep doing this. Dead is dead, but some people aren’t going to see it that way.” She gave Merlin one final look, then swept off towards the door. “Don’t let him go until I’ve seen him,” she warned. “We’re still having problems with Byron 163. He’s still claiming he’s called Mordred. I had to wipe him twice more before he’d completely gone and I’m still not sure. This one wiped okay, presumably?”

“Oh yes,” Morgause assured her, though Merlin didn’t miss the tiny pause before she said it.

“Good.” Nimueh headed out and the door closed behind her.

“Second time, anyway but she doesn’t need to know that, does she Jacob?” Morgause continued. It took Merlin a moment to remember that he was supposed to be Jacob. Still, Morgause didn’t seem to need any response. “Ah, you have no idea what I’m talking about. Come on then, follow me.”

Merlin trotted after her obediently. He was apprehensive about what Nimueh’s checks might entail, but as it appeared to mean he was leaving the cold room with the blank clones standing in it like dead people, he decided it was probably the lesser of two evils. Mordred was the man who had argued and been sedated the previous day. Merlin would have liked to talk to him, just to feel that he wasn’t the only one going through this. But there was no sign of him. One more reason to stay quiet and do what he was told. Just until the opportunity to get away arose.

Morgause led him out into the corridor. She obviously expected him to follow without argument, so he went along with that. The corridor was long and bright, and he found his eyes watering after so long in the dimly lit room where he’d been kept. Still, Morgause didn’t seem to think there was anything amiss with that, even when he wiped his eyes. Perhaps clones cried a lot.

As they walked past numerous closed doors, Merlin wondered what was behind them. Perhaps there were more people like him, resuscitated and hidden. Or perhaps there were just more of the blank clones. Occasionally he could hear voices within, or other noises. Some of those sounded like someone in pain. 

“Keep up with me,” Morgause ordered, and Merlin realised he had been dawdling, trying to make out the half-heard conversations. He trotted to catch her up, and was careful to stay just a pace behind her after that.

“You’d better not turn out to be faulty,” Morgause warned. “We’re making a good profit from you and I don’t want to have to give a late shipping discount.” 

They’d reached a security door at the end of the corridor and Morgause swiped her pass over the lock. Beyond it was another corridor, still too bright, a row of identical doors running down the entire left side. It was quieter there, Merlin couldn’t hear any conversations behind the doors, nor any other sound. When Morgause opened one, and led him inside, he wasn’t altogether surprised to see it led to a small cell-like room with only the barest facilities. One tiny bed, and a sink and toilet. Unsure what he was supposed to do next, Merlin stood beside the bed and waited for Morgause to tell him.

“Let’s run through a few tests then,” she decided. “Just in case. It’ll probably be enough for Nimueh, she’s always busy and won’t want to check you over for herself if she doesn’t have to. So. Initiate 3975 Alpha bravo 4.”

“Testing,” Merlin found himself saying, and almost staggered backwards with shock. He had no control at all over what was coming out of his mouth. “Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc. Programming options loaded are: home help standard package including full chef services; secretarial services; teaching from pre-school to post-graduate level options; full childcare package; translation services in French, German and Japanese. Other languages are available for an additional fee. Adult mode is locked under a safeguarding key which you will find in the accompanying information. I am a unique model and Du Bois Inc provide a comprehensive guarantee that no reproduction will be created during the time I am functional. We accept no responsibility for the failure of our products caused by improper use. Pages 72 to 79 of your manual cover most but not all of the common occurrences of this. Please read and adhere to the guidelines for clone care. If you follow these, Du Bois Inc assures you that you will be completely satisfied with your near-human clone for many years to come.”

“Perfect,” Morgause murmured, and Merlin supposed she was probably talking to herself rather than him. “Now let’s try the functions. We’ll do French first.”

Merlin had always been terrible at French. Actually, he’d been fairly dire at most languages, and barely passable at his supposedly native Welsh which at least had the advantage of being heard on a daily basis. So he was stunned to find himself suddenly speaking perfect French in response to the code Morgause read out. He couldn’t stop talking, almost like an automatic response. It was frightening, and he knew his reaction was probably showing in his face. But Morgause was only listening, ticking off something on her tablet, not even looking at him. By the time she raised her head, he’d composed himself.

The other tests went much the same. By the end, Merlin had resigned himself to having lost control of his own body. He listened to himself. It was like somebody else speaking. He might have come back after whatever they had done to him, but something of these people’s interference with him remained. When Morgause left, shutting the door behind her, he sank down on the bed, head in hands.

Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps if whoever it was had purchased him really had bought him for sex like Morgause said then they’d speak a code too and his body would do whatever it needed to. Perhaps he’d feel as if he were detached, locked away in some place at the back of his mind. It wouldn’t be him it was happening to. He wondered what the person who had bought him would be like. Snuffed out, she’d said.

He wasn’t going to think about it.

He couldn’t think about anything else.

Hours passed. Or they felt like hours anyway. It could have just been minutes. The room was plain and grey and there was nothing for him to do but think and worry. Of the other woman, Nimueh, there was no sign, but Merlin was fine with that. He knew she’d sensed his magic, and thought she would probably realise the truth. Perhaps she would just accept Morgause’s tests. Perhaps she would forget about him. He didn’t think he could cope with the pain if they tried to wipe his mind again. And what if he didn’t come back the next time?

Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad thing, given his probable fate. 

He lay back on the bed. It wasn’t comfortable, the mattress barely an inch thick, and the room was too cold. There was little chance of sleep. Suddenly, he became aware of a new sound, faint but audible.

“Are we human…”

Someone was singing, off in another room somewhere. It was a woman’s voice, soft and low. He recognised the song, just the chorus from a pop song from a few years back. His mother liked it and was always singing it while she was in the kitchen, or in the garden, or in the shower… All the time, really. Merlin listened, liking the sound of the woman’s voice. He wondered where his mother was, whether she knew he’d been taken to this place.

The woman carried on singing. It wasn’t really a happy song unless his mother sang it, but this was a super-miserable version of it. Merlin thought of his mother dancing embarrassingly around the kitchen, always singing off-key and too fast, making her own bright and poppy version of it. The woman he could hear sang it quite differently and it wasn’t happy at all. She had changed it to something very slow and mournful. Her voice sounded so very sad.

“And I’m on my knees looking for the answer. Are we human? Or are we… are we…” The voice broke off, and Merlin thought he could hear sobbing.

When Hunith had sung the same song, her voice had been full of joy. Even more so if Merlin had complained about her singing, because she would then try to swing him round in a silly dance with her. The song had a completely different meaning in the place where Merlin was now. He closed his eyes and clung to the happy memory of his mother as he tried, unsuccessfully, to let sleep claim him.

\---

Hunith Emrys wondered if it was time to move.

Her house didn’t feel like a home any more, not since she’d lost her boy. Merlin had been clumsy, brilliant, silly, lively and fun, and had brightened every day for her since the moment he’d been born. It had been months since she’d lost him, but she still expected to come home and find him sitting on the sofa, feet up on the table, watching some ridiculous TV show and wanting his dinner. 

She’d never see him again, she knew. But it didn’t take away the longing, the emptiness. Perhaps if she changed jobs, moved to the city where she wasn’t constantly reminded, things would be better.

It was lonely too. People didn’t know what to say, so they stayed away. They made sympathetic noises, asked if there was anything they could do, but it was all just superficial really. Kindly meant, but of course there was nothing anyone could do and she knew that her sorrow just made them uncomfortable. Going somewhere new, somewhere nobody knew her, it might be the answer.

Will was doing better now, months later. He was moving on too, he’d got a new job down in Cardiff and would be gone within the week. That was for the best. He’d blamed the other young man, Gwaine, for Merlin’s death, and wouldn’t let that go. They were constantly fighting and arguing over it. Gwaine had jumped in after her boy and nearly drowned himself trying to save him. It wasn’t Gwaine’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Merlin was always insisting on using the bridge as a shortcut. 

Gwaine himself was a mess. Will blamed him, but not as much as Gwaine blamed himself. He hadn’t returned to university after the summer, staying in a room over the pub rather than at home with the family he’d never got on with. He worked behind the bar in the Green Dragon, but he was close to getting sacked from there for drinking half the profits. Someone else who needed to move on. She’d tried talking to him, but he could barely speak to her and she’d felt she was doing more harm than good. Poor Gwaine. She hadn’t wanted him near her boy, but she hated to see him like that. His own family weren’t exactly being supportive but then that was nothing new.

Perhaps she could move closer to her remaining family? She had an aunt in Camelot that she hadn’t seen for years, a distant cousin who lived up near Chester as well. It wasn’t much, they’d never been a big family or close, but it would be something. Camelot would be better, impersonal and distant. It would swallow her up and she would be lost in the seething metropolis. Merlin had been going there to study, his A levels had been good enough for him to get his first choice. He would have been there by now, she knew. But although she would have missed him terribly there would have been visits, emails, video calls… and so much pride that her son was following his dream to become a doctor. 

Sighing as she closed the front door behind her, she began her quiet nightly routine of preparing her own dinner which she would sit and eat on a tray in front of the TV. Aithusa, would probably sit there silently in front of her, watching hopefully for any scraps. The little Westie didn’t do as well for treats these days. Merlin had always spoiled him and she knew Aithusa thought her a very poor substitute. She’d have to live near a park, wherever she moved to. Aithusa would hate Camelot, used to the Welsh countryside. But Hunith wanted to leave, and Aithusa would have to adjust. Their lives wouldn’t be all that different in Camelot, but it would be away from the memories. 

That wouldn’t be a bad thing.

\---

Saturday morning, at precisely 11am as arranged, Arthur’s special delivery arrived. 

His father had already called to see why he wasn’t at work. Arthur had pointed out that actually they weren’t supposed to work on weekends and that he was due at least one off. He could tell long before the call abruptly ended that his father wasn’t too happy with him for that. But then, what was new?

Arthur tried to forget about his rapidly deteriorating relationship with his father, and concentrate on his new project instead. His new project, which had arrived in a discreetly covered packing crate and been wheeled up to Arthur’s apartment. The delivery men took it just inside the door along with numerous large square brown boxes, had Arthur sign for safe delivery, then opened the crate. 

Inside was the clone, looking for all the world like a life-size doll, immaculate and ethereal. It appeared to be sleeping upright in the nest of the deep purple satin lining the box. Carefully, the delivery men eased it out, and it stood there, immobile.

“Thank you for your custom,” one of the delivery men told Arthur. “Please don’t hesitate to call our helpline if you have any questions about the clone and its functionality. Have a good day.”

Arthur could imagine exactly what was implied by that, but he just nodded to the men and closed the door as they left.

The clone was perfectly still, breathing but static as it had not yet been activated. There was a certain sequence of words Arthur had to speak, and then it would be bound to him. First though, he looked it over. To all intents and purposes it looked like a young man, every bit as attractive as the online picture had been. There was even a heartbeat, which combined with the breathing and the lack of movement was a little unnerving.

His name was Jacob according to the paperwork that arrived with him, and Arthur would be able to bond him to the sound of Arthur’s voice just by reading out a few simple codewords. All helpfully provided in a sealed pack. 

“Time to wake you up then, Jacob,” Arthur murmured. He unsealed the codewords and read them out clearly. 

Jacob immediately took a huge gulp of air, then another, and practically fell over. He looked panicked as he straightened up, backing away from Arthur.

“Where am I?”

Arthur was sure that wasn’t how they were supposed to react.

“You’re in my flat. I bought you.”

“Oh god!” Jacob stared at him for a moment, then away, looking to the door. “I’m here already!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “What?” That would be perfect, a clone who stood at one of his father’s swanky business receptions swearing and being unpredictable. He was going straight back as soon as Arthur had run a few tests. What a waste of money.

Jacob blinked at him, then suddenly his expression settled into something calmer and he smiled at Arthur. It looked insincere, fake.

“I’m sorry. My programming is slow to kick in when I’m restarted. I’m Unique Model Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc. Programming options loaded are: home help standard package including full chef services; secretarial services; teaching from pre-school to post-graduate level options; full childcare package; translation services in French, German and Japanese. Other languages are available for an additional fee. Adult mode is locked under a safeguarding key which you will find in the accompanying information. I am a unique…”

Arthur stared at him as the spiel continued. He wondered what constituted the improper use that Jacob then started to talk about, and decided to check out the manual sooner rather than later. 

“Clone care?” Arthur queried when Jacob reached that point in his speech.

Jacob faltered slightly at that, but seemed to collect himself and finished what he was saying. “If you f-follow these uh… instructions, Du Bois Inc assures you that you will be completely satisfied with your near-human clone for many years to come.”

“Wonderful. So, you’re Jacob?”

“I’ve been given the name Jacob. You may choose another name if you wish and I will respond to that.”

The smile didn’t seem to quite reach Jacob’s eyes. Arthur could still see fear there, just like the picture in the catalogue, he was sure of it. 

“Jacob will be just fine. So, Jacob, what do I do with you?” He glanced down at the boxes that had arrived with Jacob. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring luggage.”

Jacob looked down at the boxes, then back at Arthur. “The company brought them. Not me.”

Typical. It was the same sort of factual reasoning that the Pendragon robots had. Arthur had hoped the clone might be more humanoid. Jacob would be hopeless at one of the business functions if that was how he was going to interact. People would see through him in an instant.

“Do you know what’s in them?”

“Clone maintenance supplies,” Jacob read from the label on the top of the nearest box. “I don’t know what that is.” There was a pause, then he spoke again. “Would you like me to open one?”

“Go ahead,” Arthur waved his hand towards the box. “You’ll be the one keeping this place tidy, you might as well start by seeing what those are and then packing them away somewhere.” 

Jacob was surprising. Instead of looking around to find a knife or scissors, he picked at the seal on the box with his fingernails. Very human after all. It was fascinating to watch, and completely at odds with some of the other things he had said. Those had been so factual, so robotic. The scientific side of Arthur desperately wanted to take a look at the technology behind Jacob, to see what made him work. How was he different from Pendragon’s robots? And how much of that technology could Arthur take and use to develop his own range? 

Clumsily, Jacob pulled off the seal in several strips, dropping the pieces on the floor. Arthur raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t comment, waiting to see what he would do next. Jacob certainly wasn’t like the slickly efficient Pendragon robots, but then perhaps that was all part of the appeal. 

Having got the box open, Jacob pulled out several tubes and packets, and looked at them.

“It’s powdered food and supplements,” he told Arthur, the distaste apparent on his face. “They’re what I’m supposed to eat.”

Arthur took one of the packets from him and opened it. Inside was a thick, powdery yellow substance. According to the instructions on the side it had to be mixed with water. Jacob was supposed to consume this twice a day as part of the carefully regulated diet recommended for clones. It didn’t look very appetising.

“No bacon sandwiches for you then,” Arthur grinned. Jacob didn’t smile back, and actually looked quite sorrowful at the idea. His blue eyes, which were one of the first things Arthur had been drawn to, widened mournfully. Arthur found himself feeling a little sorry for him, then pushed the feeling away. This was a clone. It wasn’t a real person. It was just one step up from the robots that he built himself. 

“What do you want me to do?” Jacob asked. He was still holding the tube of whatever the other foodstuff was.

“Well you can clear this away for starters. Clear a space in one of the kitchen cupboards for yourself, then put the rest… I don’t know. Find somewhere. It can’t stay in the hall. Is it just food in there?”

Jacob shrugged.

“Well why don’t you have a look?” Arthur suggested tetchily. Honestly, Jacob was the worst excuse for a servant possible. Really they had nothing to worry about if all the clones were like Jacob.

Jacob dutifully opened up the remaining boxes. Most were clearly labelled as foodstuff, but there was a smaller plastic sealed pack that Jacob brought out and handed to Arthur.

“Says it’s for you,” he told him. “Owners instructions and additional programming.” 

It was probably the sex option, Arthur realised. He took it quickly, suddenly embarrassed, and took a step back. “I’ll look at that later. Clear this lot up, then you can make me some lunch.”

Jacob glanced up at the hall clock. “It’s only 11.15 in the morning. Who has lunch that early?”

Arthur glared at him. “Well maybe I’m expecting you to be slow and inefficient. Don’t ask why I’ve got that impression already.” He turned away, heading towards the living room. “Knew I should’ve just got a house robot.”

He was sure he heard Jacob mutter that he wished that he had. Great, Arthur thought. He’d bought a clone that could insult him, swear, and was far too human to be much use. Jacob had been expensive. Perhaps he could swap him for one of the cheaper range and study that instead. Take it apart, even. 

He heard Jacob stumble over something out in the hallway and give a yelp of pain. It wasn’t endearing. It absolutely wasn’t. 

\---

Merlin stood in Arthur’s kitchen, trying to work out what he should do next.

He’d expected to have some opportunity to escape before he reached his new home, but there had been no chance. Nimueh had never appeared for the threatened tests, but several other staff had come into the cell where he was being held instead. He’d been injected with something, and the next thing he knew he was standing in Arthur’s hallway, all packaged up ridiculously neatly. His hair had been thoroughly gelled into place and felt alien and uncomfortable. He reached up to touch it, wanting to ruffle it into its normal scruffy state, then remembered he was supposed to be playing a part at least until he had the opportunity to get away.

Arthur, at least, didn’t seem like a complete monster even if he was pretty rude. And he was certainly easy on the eyes. He wasn’t what Merlin had been fearing at all. And perhaps he only wanted domestic help. It wouldn’t matter, as soon as Arthur was asleep Merlin intended making his escape. He could be well away long before Arthur noticed he’d gone. Even if he had to walk back to Ealdor from wherever it was that Arthur lived. And Merlin would be washing all the gunk out of his hair the first chance he got.

Still, being the domestic help had its problems too. Merlin couldn’t cook, and his mother had always despaired of his untidiness. Arthur’s flat was immaculate, so there wasn’t an immediate problem with the cleaning, but lunch was another matter.

“Those boxes are still in my hallway!” Arthur called from the other room. “Do you come with a multiple speed setting, or is slow just the standard?”

“Prat,” Merlin muttered under his breath. “I’m just finding some space for them,” he called back, and quickly opened up one of the cupboards.

Finding a space wasn’t a problem. There was hardly anything in most of the cupboards, just a few items of crockery and a couple of pans that were so pristine Merlin doubted they’d ever actually been used. There wasn’t a great deal of food either, various cans heading towards their sell-by date, plus a few things in the freezer. Merlin wondered whether Arthur was expecting him to produce dinner by magic or something. It wasn’t something he’d ever tried, but it still might work out better than Merlin’s cooking.

All the clone feed fitted easily into one of the empty cupboards. Merlin broke up the boxes then hunted down the recycling bin and pushed them in. He considered doing the same with the contents because the packets of clone food looked decidedly unappetising. He’d had something similar for his meals while he was being held by Du Bois Inc. It had been bland and tasteless. A bacon sandwich, now that Arthur had put the idea into his head, sounded very good.

Perhaps the cooking program would kick in like the language one had, he thought. Perhaps he’d be able to produce amazing meals. And if Arthur wasn’t around, he could eat them too. In the meantime, he found a pizza in the freezer and put that in the oven. Then he tried to turn the oven on.

Arthur’s oven was state of the art. Complicated wasn’t the word, it was far beyond that. Probably some sort of super-computer sentient life form that was going to take over the world. Merlin tried pressing various buttons and twiddling all the dials, but all it did was bleep loudly at him. Once it lit up and he thought he’d got it, but no, it started bleeping again.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Arthur had come in to investigate the noise, and was standing there with his arms folded, looking annoyed. 

“I can’t make the oven work,” Merlin admitted. 

“I thought you were all supposed to come with built-in understanding of these things,” Arthur grumbled. 

“How do you turn it on?”

“How should I know?”

“It’s _your_ oven!” Actually, it looked almost brand new. “Don’t you ever cook?”

“No point when I can order delivery. And now I have you to do it. Do you want the manual?”

“Might help.”

Arthur pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment, as if he were going to say something more, but then turned away to rummage through one of the kitchen drawers before bringing out a white booklet. “Here. I assume you can read?”

Merlin glared at him and snatched the manual away. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, standing there watching him. 

It took a few minutes to read through but eventually Merlin worked out how to switch the oven on. He looked at the pizza box, set the timer, and turned to look at Arthur triumphantly.

“Frozen pizza,” Arthur said drily. “Yum.”

“You haven’t got any food here, what was I supposed to do?”

Arthur considered that for a moment. “You can go shopping, Jacob. You can buy everything you need, and then can prepare me the most amazing meal I’ve ever tasted this evening.” He glanced down at the oven. “To make up for lunch.”

Lunch needed making up for. A few minutes later the timer pinged and the pizza was still more or less frozen. Confused, Merlin re-read the instructions on the box. Pre-heat the oven. Ah. He could feel Arthur’s gaze boring into the back of his neck as he put the pizza back into the oven. Things weren’t going well.

Still. Shopping. 

That would mean going out. The day was looking brighter already. And if he was let out then Merlin certainly had no intention of coming back.

\---


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur poked at the shrivelled, half-burnt mess on his plate. It definitely wasn’t what had been promised on the website. But then, there was a lot about Jacob that didn’t fit what had been promised on the website.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at cooking?”

Jacob got that worried, almost frightened look on his face again. “We’re supposed to learn, like real people. I’ll get better at it, I promise.”

That was odd too. Jacob had been behaving oddly for most of the day though, so Arthur thought that he probably shouldn’t be surprised by now. 

“If you’d let me go out shopping, like I said, I could’ve picked out the right ingredients and made something better,” Jacob continued. 

Yes, he’d been whining about going out as well. When Arthur had sat him in front of a computer and told him to order what he needed, he’d thought for a moment that Jacob was going to cry. The look on his face had been pitiable. 

“You can order in anything you need,” Arthur pointed out. “There’s no difference between that and going to the shops. Nobody wastes time going to the shops these days.” He pushed the plate away. “This is inedible.”

Jacob grabbed the plate quickly, then stood there holding it, obviously not sure what to do. “Do you want me to try again?”

“No!” Arthur definitely did not. At least not until he’d checked Jacob’s programming. Perhaps there was something in that welcome pack that explained how to activate the chef programme. “I’ll order in. You… go study cookery online or something.”

Jacob scuttled away into the kitchen, still looking worried. Arthur could hear him banging around in there a few moments later. He could only imagine the mess his pristine kitchen would be in by the time Jacob had finished whatever he was doing. 

Shaking his head, Arthur called one of his regular numbers and soon enough had confirmation that his dinner was on the way. At least he knew it would be edible. 

It had been an interesting afternoon with Jacob, all in all. After the unappetising pizza lunch, and the reluctant online shopping experience, he’d taken some time to show Jacob around the place. The clone had been fascinated by the view from Arthur’s apartment, as if he’d never seen out across Camelot before. Perhaps he hadn’t, Arthur realised, if he’d just been grown in a tank somewhere. Presumably that was how the clones were created. He’d asked Jacob, but the clone had just shook his head, saying he didn’t remember. Arthur had caught him several times later just staring out of the huge picture window that looked out over the city. Anything rather than do the cleaning he’d been instructed to do, it seemed. 

Really, though, Arthur had just been putting off sitting him down and starting to run the tests that he wanted to do. There was something a little vulnerable about Jacob, and Arthur was reluctant to start treating him like the lab rat he had been purchased to be. But it had to be done.

It would be 45 minutes before dinner turned up. No time like the present.

“Jacob, come in here,” Arthur called.

Jacob appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, looking wary. His previously neat hair wasn’t quite immaculate any more. It looked as if he’d run his hand through it and then tried to smooth it down again. The smoothing down hadn’t gone very well. “I’ve nearly finished clearing up,” he told Arthur a little defensively. 

“Never mind that. Come into my study with me. I want to run a few tests on you.”

He didn’t miss the way Jacob flinched at that. Was it possible for clones to experience fear? It didn’t seem to have been the case with the more robotic ones at the reception a few nights back. But Jacob was different, presumably due to his unique status. He was remarkably human. But he _wasn’t_ human, Arthur reminded himself. The _clone_ dutifully trotted over and sat down on the chair that Arthur had placed in the middle of the study. Jacob’s eyes were wide and concerned.

“What’re you going to do?” he asked, watching Arthur firing up his computer.

“Just some tests. I told you my work is the scientific development of robots.”

“I’m not a robot,” Jacob immediately insisted.

“Yes, I know that. I want to see the differences between you and them, it’ll help us improve our range. It’s why I bought you.”

“For science?” Jacob queried. “Not for sex?”

“No!” Arthur could feel himself colouring. Bloody cheeky clone. Though of course he’d chosen the cutest-looking out of the catalogue because really there was no harm in exploring that side of the clone’s abilities. Interestingly, Jacob was blushing too, right to the tips of those prominent ears. Arthur made a mental note to explore how that effect was created. It was very attractive and would be a great addition to their robots. “I’m a scientist. Now, first of all, I want some samples.”

“Samples?” Jacob repeated warily. “What sort of samples?”

“You ask a lot of questions for something bred to serve, Jacob,” Arthur pointed out. He picked a scalpel out of his toolkit, trying to ignore the yelp of concern from his subject on seeing it.

“What’re you going to do with that?”

“I just want a little skin sample,” Arthur told him calmly. “A tiny, tiny piece.”

“That’ll hurt!”

“No it won’t, you’re a clone.”

“I’m…” Jacob began, then bit his lip. “It’ll hurt,” he said again. “Clones feel pain.”

That was interesting, though Arthur didn’t think he had the heart to test it out. “Look,” he relented. “Just some dry skin from your fingers, callouses or something. You pare it off for me if you prefer. But I do want to see what passes for blood as well. Maybe just a pinprick on your finger, I only need a drop.”

Jacob actually sat on his hands when he heard that. Arthur tried to hide a smirk, but failed.

“It’s not funny,” Jacob protested. “You want to dissect me!”

“One tiny drop of blood, or whatever it is that’s powering you. Come on, don’t be such a baby. Give me your hand.”

Jacob glowered at him, and shuffled around so that he was sitting even more firmly on his hands. Arthur sighed, then quickly darted forward and pricked Jacob on the forearm.

“Ow!” Jacob jumped to his feet, holding his arm. 

“I barely scratched you. Let me take the sample.”

Jacob pouted defiantly at him, still holding his arm.

“Or I’ll have to do it again. I only need the tiniest drop.”

Reluctantly, Jacob relented and held out his arm so that Arthur could collect a little of his blood on a glass slide.

“Thank you. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Jacob just glared at him. Arthur busied himself running the sample through a scanner. His home equipment was nowhere near as sophisticated as what he had access to at work, but it would do for a start. He could always take Jacob in and run more tests another day. Jacob, for his part, was standing behind Arthur watching everything he was doing.

“What does it show?”

“Looks almost as if you have real blood,” Arthur replied, still busy reading through the results of the scan. “How’s that skin sample coming along? I’d like to see what synthetic material you’re made of.”

“Of course it’s real blood! I’m a person,” Jacob protested. “You don’t need to cut me up and run tests. Look, you can feel my heart beating, just like yours!” He grabbed Arthur’s hand and tried to place it over his chest. For a moment Arthur could feel it, Jacob’s heart beating there beneath his breast, racing as if he were terrified. He did feel real. But he wasn’t, not truly.

Arthur pulled his hand away, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Maybe I won’t do this today,” he relented. “Go and finish cleaning up the kitchen.”

Jacob sat there for a few seconds, just staring at him. Then he got up, and stomped off towards the kitchen. “It wouldn’t kill you to say please,” he grumbled.

Arthur glared after him. Jacob had to be the most annoying clone ever created. He was nothing like Chloe at all. She wouldn’t have argued with him, he was sure. Well, no more than she had done anyway. She wasn’t in the same league as Jacob. But Arthur wasn’t going to send him back. Not yet.

He started to make some notes. That blood and realistic heartbeat really was something special. Jacob even felt warm. He had to find out exactly how they were created.

And then they were going to have to make some major changes at Pendragon Robotics.

\---

Dinner was a sad affair.

Arthur’s delivery had arrived and Jacob had dutifully served it up for him.

Admittedly, he hadn’t done so very neatly, and he’d got the knife and fork round the wrong way, and then looked blankly at Arthur when his error had been pointed out to him. But Arthur had food now and it was tasty and hot. He’d told Jacob to go and make up some of that clone feed stuff for himself, which Jacob had done.

Unfortunately Jacob had brought it to the dining table and sat down with it. And, instead of eating it, he was sitting there looking longingly at Arthur’s dinner.

It was a little bit like having a dog.

“Shouldn’t you eat that?” Arthur asked eventually, tired of the hungry looks.

“It’s gross.”

“It contains vitamins and minerals, and everything to keep a clone in tip-top condition,” Arthur told him. He’d read the label on one of the cartons earlier. 

“It’ll probably give me a shiny coat too,” Jacob grimaced. “It’s horrible. It’s got no taste, and it’s like putting plain tofu in your mouth. You ever tried tofu without any flavouring?”

The creamy-yellow lump of whatever it was did look as if it had a similar consistency to tofu, Arthur realised. He’d tried it once, in a Chinese all-you-can-eat buffet. It was a once-only experience.

“It’s good for you.”

“It’s horrible.” Jacob leaned forward, eyeing Arthur’s dinner. “You can’t eat all that. Why don’t you let me have some?”

Arthur pulled his plate a little closer. There was far too much for one person, but he wasn’t going to share. For one thing, he had no idea what the food would do to his new clone. There had to be a reason that they had special food. Probably a bit like giving a dog chocolate, they might like it but it wasn’t good for them. No, it wouldn’t do to share his food with Jacob. “It’s food for humans, not clones. It’ll make you ill.”

“This,” Jacob poked the yellowish lump of clone food, which wobbled unappetisingly. “This will make me ill. Please…” He widened his eyes, looking alarmingly like a pleading puppy. Arthur tried not to find it desperately appealing. This was a clone. Not a real person. “I love egg fried rice. And prawn crackers are my favourite thing. It smells soooooooooo good.”

It really _was_ like having a dog. When he was growing up Arthur had never been allowed a dog because they made too much mess and noise, two things that his father particularly disapproved of. But several of his friends had dogs and Arthur had enviously watched them sneaking their pets treats at mealtimes. The dogs would come up and silently beg for food, regardless of the fact that they’d often just eaten their own food. Arthur wondered whether, if he threw Jacob a prawn cracker, he’d jump up and catch it in his mouth. Then he shook his head, trying to stop that train of thought. Jacob was a clone. A strange, disobedient one, but a clone nonetheless.

Though perhaps clones had to be trained just like a pet? Arthur realised he was going to have to read right through all the informational material that he’d been given and find out exactly what he should be doing. One thing was certain though, he wasn’t going to risk feeding Jacob any unauthorised food, at least not until he’d checked.

“Eat your tofu,” Arthur advised, then had to slap Jacob’s hand away when he reached for a prawn cracker anyway. “No. God, what kind of service clone are you? Aren’t you supposed to do exactly what I say? I ought to send you straight back.”

He had been joking, but he regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth. Jacob’s expression turned horror-struck for a moment, and it almost looked as if he were about to start crying. But instead he ducked his head and started to eat the clone food. It was obviously a struggle, and Arthur could see the effort with every swallow, but the plate was quickly cleared. 

“Don’t send me back there,” Jacob pleaded. “I can be better. I can. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Arthur’s meal somehow didn’t seem very appetising any more. He didn’t really know what he wanted Jacob to do. It wasn’t as if the flat needed cleaning, Arthur had always borrowed one of the Pendragon models for that, usually as part of some testing or other he was doing. He hadn’t really thought through the implications of keeping a clone. Part of the advertising showed them as companions, and there had been many reported cases already for both robots and clones where their owners had become far too attached. But Arthur wasn’t sentimental. He wouldn’t end up like that. Somehow, this behaviour of Jacob’s was all down to programming. Very, very clever programming.

“Why don’t you go and recharge or something,” Arthur suggested. 

“I’m a clone.”

“Yes.” Arthur had worked that out. The clue had been right there when he’d gone to a clone company to purchase him. Honestly, Jacob was infuriating for stating the obvious.

“We don’t have batteries to recharge, we sleep, just like you.”

“Something like sleep. It won’t be real sleep, Jacob. You’ll just shut down for a while.”

“It’s sleep,” Jacob insisted. “You say you’re some sort of scientist, but you just won’t accept the truth, will you? That’s not science. Scientists are supposed to be open to anything, supposed to learn and grow. You just see everything that you don’t understand as being something like your robots.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Arthur decided. “Go and… do whatever clones are supposed to do. Sleep or something.”

“It’s only 7.30.”

Arthur was getting a headache, definitely. This, he imagined, would be what it was like to have to look after a child. The likelihood of him ever having one had always been relatively low but they were diminishing by the moment. “Go and watch TV or something. Can you do that?”

Jacob didn’t need telling twice, apparently. He pushed his chair back and was straight into the living room. Arthur could hear the TV going on.

“Wow! Your TV’s huge!”

It was, Arthur liked to have the best. Not that he ever had time to watch it, always too busy working. He could hear the channels being flicked through, until Jacob settled on the news. Arthur was somewhat perturbed that his clone wanted to know about current affairs, but he supposed it had to be all part of the companionship thing. Perhaps it made him a better conversationalist or something.

Not wanting to go near Jacob for a while, because the clone was strangely unsettling, Arthur remained in his study and started making notes on what he’d discovered so far. There was a lot to consider. In the living room, eventually he heard the TV being changed to a noisy show with what sounded like a lot of sword fighting and shouting. Occasionally, Jacob laughed at something that one of the characters said. 

It was strange that Jacob seemed to actually have preferences. And stranger still that Arthur’s flat felt more lived in than it ever had before.

Arthur carried on working, into the night. He read through all the material he’d been given on Jacob, and it all seemed to indicate a creature not that dissimilar to the robots in temperament. It was almost as if there were something wrong with what Arthur had been given. 

A glitch was fascinating though. If Jacob had some kind of AI breakthrough that Agravaine’s people hadn’t noticed, Arthur could exploit it. They could get ahead of the game. Assuming people wanted rude and argumentative servants of course.

“Do you want a drink?”

Jacob’s sudden appearance in the doorway made Arthur jump. He was leaning against the frame, his dark hair very ruffled and unkempt now where he’d been lying around on the sofa. Arthur had peeked a few times, curious. It did look better like that. Arthur wasn’t keen on the immaculate look.

“Sorry,” Jacob ducked his head. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You’ve been sitting there for hours, just wondered if you needed me to get you anything.”

“Your programme’s finished and you’re bored?” Arthur guessed.

“No, I’m half a season behind, loads more episodes to download. I just thought you’d been sitting there a long time. It’s not good for you, you know? Sitting too long in the same position. You’ll get back problems and RSI.”

“Are you my doctor?” Arthur asked drily. 

“Not much chance of that now,” Jacob said, and Arthur thought it sounded a little bitter. “No, I just thought you should take a break and that you might like a cup of tea or something.”

It was a sweet gesture, even if it was programmed in. Arthur smiled. “I’d love one. Thank you. What are you watching, it sounds good?”

“Warlord. Halfway through season two. Ever seen it?”

“I don’t have a lot of time for TV.” Arthur got up anyway and followed Jacob out into the living room. The TV was paused on the opening credits for what looked like a barbarian king roaring his fury at the screen, a shining sword held up in front of him. 

“You should watch this. It’s really good. He lost his kingdom about four episodes in, and he’s been trying to get it back. There’s this magician, and you’re not sure which side he’s on, and they’re travelling across the wildlands trying to find the lost magical sword that’s going to win him his crown back.”

“And you enjoy this?” Arthur checked. “It’s what they let you watch where you come from?”

He saw Jacob pause for a moment, then smile back at him far too brightly. “Yes. So I can engage with anyone else who’s watched it. They must have thought you did.”

That last part seemed doubtful, but Arthur let it go. 

“How do you like your tea?”

“Strong, dash of milk, no sugar. What appeals to you about that show?” They were getting into the realms of imagination now. Did clones have an imagination? Fascinating.

“The lead actor is really cute,” Jacob replied. “And he spends half the show shirtless.”

Okay. “Perhaps I will watch it then,” Arthur smiled. “Sounds like my sort of thing.”

Jacob gave him a small, more hesitant smile, then quickly turned back towards the kettle, busying himself with getting a couple of mugs out.

“Two?”

“I’m allowed tea,” Jacob said quickly. 

Arthur couldn’t remember seeing anything about that in the literature. He’d looked fairly thoroughly. Also, his half-finished bowl of prawn crackers seemed to have emptied itself. There were just a few crumbs left in the bottom. And another few crumbs on Jacob’s t-shirt…

“And prawn crackers, apparently.”

Jacob jutted his chin out defiantly. “I said they wouldn’t do me any harm. See, I’m fine.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. Come on then, let’s have a look at this actor.”

Jacob trotted after him with the teas. When he sat down Arthur noticed he’d also tucked a packet of digestives under his arm. 

“Biscuits?”

“Can’t have a cuppa without a biscuit!” Jacob handed Arthur the packet to open, but as soon as Arthur had done so Jacob helped himself to one. “Won’t kill me either,” he said around a mouthful of crumbs.

Fine. Arthur gave up. 

“Don’t eat the whole packet,” he warned.

Jacob gave a little cheer, took a handful of biscuits and then curled up on the sofa with his feet tucked under him, happily dunking the biscuits in his tea and then eating them with noisy relish. Arthur just watched him, fascinated.

“What?” Jacob asked, noticing the scrutiny.

“Nothing. There’s just something about you.”

And there really was. Arthur just couldn’t work out what.

\---

Merlin liked Arthur.

He didn’t want to, hadn’t wanted to feel anything but hatred for whatever creep had purchased him. But Arthur, despite being a bit of a prat, was actually quite kind. He’d given up trying to persuade Merlin not to eat proper food, had let him eat almost an entire pack of chocolate digestives, and then had spent the later part of the evening sitting through three episodes of Warlord with him. Admittedly Arthur kept talking through it and asking all sorts of stupid questions, but he was sitting close to Merlin on the sofa, and the tea and biscuits were making Merlin feel better than he had in days, so all in all it didn’t really matter.

For a little while, Merlin even forgot about his current situation, and started to just enjoy sitting there with… well, if he was honest, Arthur was the best-looking man he’d ever spent an evening with. Apart from Gwaine. Actually, it was probably a dead heat, but Arthur was right there, and anyway who knew how the night was going to end up, given what Merlin had probably been bought for.

He wouldn’t mind, he thought. Not with Arthur. He was sure Arthur wouldn’t be some kind of brute. He could definitely cope with whatever Arthur wanted. If he was honest he was half-looking forward to it. Arthur was handsome and muscular, and he worked far too hard. He was kind, even if he pretended not to be. He was bright and wealthy, and no, Merlin wouldn’t mind at all. It was strange that he felt no physical desire, but he supposed that was just the trauma of everything that had happened. Normally just being in the close proximity of a man as attractive as Arthur would have been enough to give him a hard-on but that wasn’t happening. 

It was just the trauma. And it was probably for the best, it wouldn’t do for a supposed docile clone to be walking round semi-hard half the time. Merlin pushed the concern aside. He had more important problems.

No matter how decent Arthur was, Merlin still would have to escape. He needed to go home, see his mother, find out what had happened to Gwaine. But he could stay with Arthur for one night. Seeing that gorgeous man naked would soon sort out the arousal problem, Merlin was certain of that.

“What?” Arthur asked, and Merlin realised he had been staring.

“Did you want the last biscuit?”

“You ate them all!”

“Not all, there’s one left,” Merlin protested. “Here, we could share it.” He broke the biscuit in half and then, daringly, moved closer to feed it to Arthur. 

Arthur’s mouth opened, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s. Merlin popped the piece of biscuit inside, his fingers lingering over Arthur’s lips as they did so. Arthur gazed back at him, not pulling away. Going with it, Merlin leaned in, focused on Arthur’s plump pink lips.

Arthur, just for a moment, leaned in as well and for a moment Merlin thought he was going to get kissed. But then Arthur suddenly got to his feet.

“It’s time for bed. Uh, I mean…” he looked down at Merlin then away. “I’m going to bed. You’d better use the guest room. It’s all made up. I guess that’ll be your room now.”

And then he was gone, striding away. A moment later Merlin heard a door close, and knew Arthur had shut himself in his room for the night.

It was more disappointing than Merlin had expected. If things were different, he knew he would really, really like Arthur. No, he already did like Arthur. 

But Arthur had purchased him like he was some slave, and he had to remember that. He had to get away, while he could. 

Merlin waited. 

He wandered into the kitchen and packed up whatever food he could find in the bag that Arthur’s takeaway had arrived in. There was no money lying around, and it was going to be a long walk back to Wales. He wished that he hadn’t eaten all of the biscuits as there was only one other packet. Then he went along to the guest room, turning off the lights so that his eyes would adjust to the dark. There was a light clearly visible under Arthur’s door and he watched that. When it eventually flicked out, he still waited, giving Arthur time to fall asleep. 

When he thought enough time had passed, quiet as a mouse he got to his feet and crept through the apartment. He paused briefly at Arthur’s door, but there wasn’t a sound from inside. Snores would have been reassuring, but Merlin knew he couldn’t delay for too long. He needed to give himself as big a head start as possible.

Later, when he was home and safe, he thought he might write to Arthur and explain. None of it was Arthur’s fault, after all. Or perhaps he’d just remain hidden. Arthur was obviously very rich. Whatever Merlin had cost would mean little to him.

The front door, and freedom, loomed in front of him. It was a simple matter to reach up and slide back the bolt, and then unlock the door.

He wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming pain that doing so would cause.

\---

Arthur couldn’t sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he found his thoughts drifting back to his new companion. It had seemed such a good idea at first, buying himself a clone and all the benefits that came with it. He hadn’t thought about it being any different from a robot. He certainly hadn’t thought there would be a moral issue for him to wrestle with.

Jacob had a mind of his own, that much was clear. Ordering him around made Arthur uncomfortable, and the thought of having sex with him when Jacob had no choice in the matter was out of the question. 

He shouldn’t have bought Jacob, he could see that now. He should have bought a different clone, one that he didn’t find so attractive. But he hadn’t expected the personality to be there. Maybe it would be better from the research point of view, but it was going to be horribly frustrating. Jacob was exactly Arthur’s type, slender and dark-haired, with eyes he could lose himself in and cheekbones that could cut glass. 

Time passed. Arthur tried sleeping on his left side, then his right, then back again. He wondered if he should try reading for a while, to make himself tired and to concentrate on something else, but he didn’t think it would help. All he could think about was the touch of Jacob’s fingers on his lips, and his face so close, so attainable yet completely out of reach.

Suddenly there was a yell of pain and a loud crash. Arthur flipped the light on, scrambling out of bed.

“Jacob?” he called. There was no answer as such, though he could hear someone moaning. He flung open his bedroom door and turned on the hall light.

Jacob was lying on the floor next to the front door, clutching his head and whimpering softly.

“Jacob?” Arthur crouched down beside him. “What’s happened?”

“Hurts,” Jacob groaned. “My head.”

There was a bag beside him on the floor. Arthur could see a packet of biscuits in there, and a bottle of water. A suspicion began to form in his mind.

“Were you trying to leave?”

They weren’t supposed to be able to do that. Whilst clones could travel hundreds of miles away with their owner’s permission, they weren’t allowed to disobey. And trying to run away definitely fell into the category of disobedience.

Jacob gave a little cry, and curled up into a ball. “I need to get out of here. I need to get home!” he whined. “Hurts! What have you done?”

This was definitely not how they were supposed to behave. Arthur was more familiar with the robots, those being his father’s business after all, but he was quite sure the clones weren’t that different. Jacob wasn’t right. 

“I haven’t done anything,” Arthur protested. “You were obviously trying to get away. You’ve probably activated some sort of trigger.” Even as he said it, he thought how wrong that sounded. But these were clones. Why would they want to run away? Why would they need to? “There’s obviously something not right, I’m going to find the code to shut you down and…”

“No!” Jacob almost screamed at him, uncurling and backing up against the door. “No! Please don’t do that! Please! You don’t know what it’s like, you can’t see, you can’t move! I was like it in that box when they brought me. It was horrible! Please!” He reached up, trying to open the door, but again this hurt him. Arthur could see his eyes welling up.

That wasn’t right either. The clones weren’t supposed to cry, not unless they’d been given some sort of sick programming. And Arthur definitely hadn’t ordered that. The man… no, the clone… he had to remember that. It was a clone, not a human being, no matter how lifelike it was. The clone was visibly distressed. There had obviously been a mistake. Perhaps this one had been programmed for someone with a cruel streak and there had been a mix up on the order. Arthur didn’t want to think about what sort of person would buy a simulation of a terrified person. But that was the only rational explanation.

“I just need a companion. You’re not going to be ill-treated here. But I think you may have the wrong programming,” he said carefully. “I’m sure if we contact the company that sent you, they can fix it and then you’ll be okay.”

“No!” Jacob gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Don’t send me back there! Don’t!”

“It’s standard procedure for defective clones.”

“I’m not a clone,” Jacob whispered. “I’m not.”

That was strange too. Arthur had never heard of one thinking it was real, though it was always possible. All those sci fi movies he’d seen over the years, so many pointed to it happening. “Look, Jacob, you…”

“I’m Merlin.”

“What?”

“Merlin. My name. Not Jacob. Merlin Emrys. I live in a village in Wales.”

It had to be the wrong programming. But Jacob… _Merlin_ seemed so convinced, so realistic. 

So frightened. 

“That’s not true. They grow clones from DNA.”

“You can look it up,” Merlin insisted. “Google me, I’ll still be recorded somewhere, it’s only been a few months.”

Arthur wasn’t sure it was a good idea to humour him, but Merlin was so earnest, so sure. Perhaps it would help get through to him if Arthur could prove his story false.

“Come on then,” he said, and reached to help Merlin up.

“Thank you,” Merlin breathed. He held onto Arthur’s hand longer than was necessary, gripping tightly. “I’m not lying, I swear.”

Arthur wasn’t so sure, but he led Merlin through to his study then sat down in front of his laptop. “Come on then, what am I looking for?”

Merlin perched on the edge of the other chair, watching him. “Search on my name. Merlin, like the bird, Emrys, E-M-R-Y-S. It’ll be in the news, what happened to me. It was an accident.”

There _was_ a Merlin Emrys. He died six months ago, aged just 18. And he looked exactly like the man sitting in Arthur’s study.

“I died,” Merlin whispered. “And it hurt, and everything stopped and then I woke up and I was like this. We’re not supposed to remember, but I do. I remember who I was. I’m not a clone. They took my body and cleaned it out, got everything working again.”

“Why would… no, you must have his DNA, it must be that.” Arthur turned to face him. “There’s no reason to do something so horrible.”

Merlin sighed. “Money,” he said. “The cloning process is slow and demand is high.”

“But…”

“Undamaged bodies can be reanimated,” Merlin continued. “I drowned, I was useable. I could hear them talking about it when they worked on me the last time before they sent me here. And I’m dead, as you just saw, so I’ve got no rights.”

That was unthinkable. And yet Arthur found himself starting to wonder if it might be true. “How could you be reanimated? If you’re dead you’re dead. And if someone resuscitates you then you’re still alive, with full rights. Surely?”

“They used magic,” Merlin sighed. “There was a woman, Nim, I think they called her.”

“Nimueh,” Arthur confirmed. “I met her. So, she’s a magic user?”

“You don’t like magic?” Merlin asked. He looked worried.

“I don’t like the thought of it being used for something like this. And my sister had magic, it drove her mad and she killed herself. So yes, I’m pretty wary of it. Aren’t you?”

Merlin shrugged. “I’ve seen good and bad.” He paused, then added more carefully, “I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Yes, well it was a couple of years ago now.” And it was something Arthur still didn’t like to think about. “What about you though? If they reanimated you, wouldn’t they realise you’d soon tell whoever bought you exactly what had happened?”

“No, they don’t know I’m still me. That’s why you can’t send me back. When I woke up the first time I didn’t know what was happening, and they tried to clean out my mind. It hurt, Arthur. It hurt so much. And I woke up again and couldn’t remember anything, and it took hours to come back. I pretended that it didn’t, that I didn’t know anything. But if you send me back they’ll do it again, and this time they might succeed. Please…”

“I’m not sending you back,” Arthur promised. He was just grateful their own company had never branched out and started producing a clone line. Though he knew his father had been considering it at one point. With Aredian as partner, he still might. “You swear this is all true?”

Merlin nodded rapidly, and Arthur thought he was starting to look less terrified. “Whatever it was they did, it didn’t work. I pretended it did so they stopped trying to fix me, but I’m still in here. I’m still Merlin. I am.” He gazed at Arthur desperately. “Please, don’t send ever me back. You seem like a decent person, please, please don’t. They’ll kill me.”

Merlin wasn’t going to be any use in the role of decorative partner, Arthur could see that already. He would probably hide in the flat, terrified. Uther wasn’t going to be impressed. Well, Arthur had intended hiding the fact his partner was a clone anyway. Even more reason now. 

“We should report them, go to the authorities.”

Merlin shook his head, and Arthur could see the tears standing out in his eyes again. 

“They’ll just claim I’m a clone, like you said. A DNA memory. And then they’ll take me back and make me forget. I can’t risk it. Please, whatever you bought me for, I’ll do it, just don’t send me back.”

Arthur wasn’t going to send him anywhere. His heart ached at the sight of a single tear spilling over and running down Merlin’s cheek. So he reached out, tentatively at first, then pulled Merlin into a hug. There was only momentary resistance, and then Merlin was sobbing into his shoulder, clinging on as if he’d never let go. Arthur had never felt so needed in his life. He knew then, whatever the truth was, he wasn’t ever going to give Merlin up.

“Don’t worry,” Arthur whispered, holding him close. “You’re safe now.”

He hoped that was going to be true.

\---


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur hadn’t really envisaged his first morning with his new clone starting as it did. He’d hoped to have his breakfast served to him, not to have to run down to the local supermarket himself and buy eggs and bacon. He certainly hadn’t expected to be cooking it himself.

But Merlin wasn’t a clone, nor was he any sort of cook, and Arthur could at least manage a fry-up. The way Merlin’s face brightened when Arthur set the plate of food in front of him made it all worthwhile anyway.

“Thank you!” Merlin gasped, and promptly dived in. He didn’t have the best table manners, but that was probably largely due to just how much he was appreciating the breakfast. Arthur just watched, amused at the little noises of pleasure that Merlin was making with every mouthful.

“That clone food was as disgusting as it looked then?” Arthur checked.

“Mmm… You have no idea,” Merlin assured him. “We’re throwing it all out, right?”

“I want to look at what’s in it, so no,” Arthur told him. Merlin looked a little concerned, so Arthur quickly added, “but you won’t be eating any more of it, I promise.”

That brought the smile back. Arthur found himself trying to keep that smile on Merlin’s face as much as possible. The man’s distress the previous night had been devastating. Arthur wasn’t really very good with tears. His father had brought him up with the idea that crying was a weakness, and only for girls. Arthur didn’t completely hold with that view, but the idea was ingrained in him and meant he didn’t cry himself. Ever. But seeing someone else so upset touched some chord within him and he wanted to do everything he could to make things better.

So he’d let Merlin sleep in, eventually tapping on the door to his room and only entering when he heard Merlin tell him to come in.

His new flatmate had looked a little wary at first, but that eased when Arthur set down a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table and asked what Merlin wanted for breakfast. Then he’d shown him how to use the shower, given him a towel and some clothes, and left him to it. Somewhere in the back of his mind as Arthur had headed down to the local shop, he’d considered the fact that he was acting as servant to the person he’d expected to serve _him_. But it was a wry thought, and given poor Merlin’s circumstances Arthur found he didn’t mind one bit. It was actually quite nice to have someone to take care of. It was a new experience for him. Not since his sister had died did he have anyone that he could do things for and he found he actually missed it. But then, there were many things about Morgana that he missed. 

Merlin, though, might not be around for long. He’d mentioned a home, a mother. He’d probably want to go back. He looked quite different now, pink and clean from the shower, his hair ruffled and natural. It suited him. As Merlin wiped the plate clean with the last of the toast, Arthur steeled himself to find out what Merlin’s plans were.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair and trying to sound as if he were just asking casually. “What do we do now? Even if we can free you from whatever’s binding you to me, it might not be safe for you to go home.”

Merlin nodded sadly. “I wondered that. I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to remember. I want to see Mum, tell her I’m okay, but it might put her in danger. I don’t think the place that revived me is going to want what they’re doing to be public knowledge.”

“It _will_ be public knowledge,” Arthur promised. “I’ll make sure of that.” He saw Merlin blanch at that and added quickly, “but you’ll be safe, you’ll be here and we can bring your mother here too if you like. My father’s been looking for a way to bring down the clone industry, he’ll do anything he can to help.” Arthur tried not to consider that it might not be for entirely the right reasons, but it was a means to an end and they’d have to take it.

“I knew your father had to be a good man, that would be where you learned from,” Merlin told him.

Arthur had heard Uther called many things in his time. A good man didn’t feature particularly highly on the list but that was something Merlin would no doubt notice for himself in time.

“He’s a shrewd businessman,” Arthur admitted. “Tough. We’ll need that more than goodness. And first we’ll need to gather all the evidence we can. Can you bear to start that first, or do you need me to take you to see your mother right now?”

“You’d do that?” The eagerness on Merlin’s face was answer enough as to what he wanted. But…

“Yes. But I want to do proper tests first, Merlin. What if it _is_ a glitch, if you _are_ a clone and something went wrong? If we tell your mother you’re alive and then she has to go through the pain of losing you again, that would be too cruel. I just want to remove any doubt first.”

Merlin’s face fell, but he nodded grimly, resigned. “I want that too. These tests… they won’t hurt?”

“Of course not!” Then Arthur remembered Merlin’s over-reaction to the blood test. “Well, no more than the blood test I did. Gaius is probably going to want to do that again.”

Merlin didn’t look happy. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. “But you won’t electrocute me or anything?”

“Electrocute you? No, of course not! Why would you even think that?”

“That’s what they did, when they found I was still me. They said I wouldn’t remember, and I didn’t for a while, but I do now and it _hurt_ , it hurt like nothing else ever has. It was worse than the drowning.”

Merlin gazed at him, his blue eyes hurt and frightened just at the memory. Arthur wanted to gather him up in his arms and hold him until that hurt went away. But he knew that to Merlin he was still probably a suspicious figure. He’d bought a clone after all, and no matter how kind he was trying to be it was probably best if he didn’t try for any physical contact. 

“I’m sorry you went through that,” was all he could think of to say.

“It was like dying a second time over and I can’t go through that again.”

“You won’t have to.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now,” Arthur took out his phone. “The lab won’t be busy today. I’ll give Gaius a call and we can make a start.”

\---

Gaius, unsurprisingly, wasn’t pleased about being called into work on a Sunday.

“We’re not all like you, Arthur,” he grumbled as soon as he arrived, shuffling into the room and letting the door slam behind him. “Some of us have lives outside of here you know.”

It was true that Gaius led a far more interesting life than Arthur, which was horribly depressing given that the man was well into his 70s.

“Sorry,” Arthur apologised. “But it’s an emergency.”

“Loose connection on the latest model? Some fussy customer not liking the hair shade of the robot they bought last year? Really, Arthur, we don’t have emergencies.”

“Do people really complain about that?” Merlin asked, and Gaius suddenly noticed that he and Arthur weren’t alone.

“Who’s this? Oh tell me we’re not having to suffer Aredian’s idiot children already? Please. If you’ve pulled me away from Alice’s excellent Sunday roast just to babysit some wet behind the ears kid…”

“This is Merlin,” Arthur explained quickly.

“Congratulations, I’m Dumbledore,” Gaius snapped. “Really, Arthur…”

“I bought him as a unique clone.”

That, at least, got Gaius’ interest a little, Arthur could tell. But…

“And that couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Also, your father will be furious. Money to the opposition.”

“Except it turns out he’s not actually a clone.”

“Arthur!” Merlin yelped. “Secrets!”

Gaius looked from one to the other. “What’s going on?”

“Merlin’s not a clone. He died, they tried to wipe his memory, and then they sold him like a slave.”

“Arthur…” Merlin breathed. He looked terrified.

“It’s okay,” Arthur assured him. “I trust Gaius completely.”

Gaius gave a pleased little huff, then smiled at Merlin kindly.

“I don’t know what’s happened here, but if this is true you really don’t need to worry about me.” He sat down on the nearest chair, giving a little sigh as he did so. “However, if this is a joke that Arthur’s dreamed up, I can assure you I give at least as good as I get. Bearing that in mind, why don’t you tell me the whole story?”

Merlin glanced nervously at Arthur, who nodded encouragingly and dragged a chair over for Merlin next to Gaius, more or less pushing Merlin into it. “You can trust him. Gaius hated the idea of clones right from the start. He’ll be very interested in what you have to say. We’re not making this up,” he added to Gaius.

“I hope not.”

It did sound far-fetched though, even to Arthur’s ears. He sat quietly, letting Merlin talk. It had been the right thing to do, bringing Merlin to speak to Gaius, Arthur could see that immediately. The older man was calming and reassuring. When he shooed Arthur off to make them all tea and find some lunch, Merlin looked perfectly at ease and Arthur could leave without being concerned about him.

The slightly dry sandwiches from the vending machine in the café area were probably a poor substitute for the roast dinner Gaius had missed out on but there wasn’t a word of complaint. Arthur had returned to find them both talking quietly, heads bent together conspiratorially close. He felt a brief surge of jealousy, because Gaius had always been his mentor, his friend as he was growing up and coming to terms with his sexuality. Childless and with no living relatives, Gaius had been like a second, kinder father to him. Seeing him treat someone else the same way was something Arthur had never had to deal with. But it was Merlin, and Arthur couldn’t begrudge him anything given the circumstances. Besides, it was Arthur who had brought them together. 

Arthur sighed as he set down the second round of tea that he’d been asked… well, told really… to fetch. “Can we talk about how I’ve been turned into a servant as well?” he asked.

Merlin turned a huge, blinding smile on him and Arthur immediately forgot any complaints he might have had. Merlin was perfect, beautiful. Whoever had treated him like a piece of meat for sale had already earned Arthur’s undying hatred and wrath, and he was going to make sure they paid. Merlin could have gone to anyone, anyone at all. His life could have been made a living hell and then snuffed out again as if it were nothing.

Arthur realised that his feelings must have shown in his expression, because he suddenly became aware that Gaius was looking up at him with a knowing half-smile on his face.

“I’m sure it won’t do you any harm to do something for someone else for a change, Arthur,” Gaius told him. 

“Oh no,” Merlin piped up immediately. “Arthur’s been brilliant. Just amazing,” he added, beaming at Arthur adoringly. Arthur couldn’t help smiling back.

Gaius, the old traitor, just rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure that’s very nice for you both. Now Merlin, tell me more about this facility you were in. There were others, you say? What do you think made you different? Do you have any idea?”

“Well they couldn’t have checked him properly at the hospital,” Arthur put in. He’d been thinking about it, and decided the whole idea of magical revival was a bit far-fetched. Morgana had magic and she certainly hadn’t been able to do anything like that. Bad dreams and weird visions was as far as it went. Merlin was probably just confused, understandably. “You hear about people sometimes, supposedly clinically dead and then they wake up.”

“We’ve already established that Agravaine is using magic to revive people,” Gaius said tersely. “Keep up, Arthur.”

“Magic users aren’t that powerful.”

“Of course some of them are!” Gaius snapped. “No, what I’m interested in is how Merlin kept his own identity through his ordeal, not once but twice.”

Arthur didn’t need to be snapped at, but brushed it off. He still wasn’t convinced on the magic thing but was more interested in why Merlin was suddenly looking afraid again.

“I don’t know,” Merlin whispered. 

Gaius had that sceptical look on his face, one eyebrow heading rapidly skywards, which told Arthur he didn’t believe a word of it. Merlin wouldn’t know to recognise that though.

“You said there was another person who woke up,” Gaius coaxed. “What about him? Did you have any idea what might be different about him?”

“I didn’t see him again,” Merlin told them. “They took him away. They said there were others too.”

“No indication as to why? What the difference was?” 

Merlin looked down at his hands, twisting them nervously in his lap.

“If there’s anything,” Gaius continued. “It would help if you told us. Give us something to work on. If you were taking some sort of illegal drug or something we won’t report you. We could find some way around it.”

“It’s not drugs,” Merlin told them, his voice barely audible. “I’d never do that. I _can’t_ do that.”

Arthur leaned forward, reaching out to take one of Merlin’s hands in his own. “You can trust us,” he urged. “Whatever it is.”

Merlin raised his head to gaze at Arthur, his blue eyes dark with fear. “You’ll think I’m even more of a freak.”

“I won’t. Come on, Merlin. We can make a difference here, stop this ever happening to anyone else. _You_ can make a difference.”

Merlin swallowed hard. But there was a different look in his eyes when he spoke, set and determined. “It’s magic,” he admitted. “The other man had magic. And me… I have magic too but I don’t use it… I don’t know how to use it. I could feel it, though, when I woke up. It was there, keeping me as myself, healing what they’d done.”

Arthur gave Merlin’s hand a gentle, sympathetic squeeze. He knew the discrimination magic users faced, Morgana had suffered it throughout her short life. Merlin probably thought they’d treat him differently because of it.

“Guess it’s a really good thing you have magic then,” Arthur said lightly. He caught the look of surprise on Merlin’s face, and was relieved to see him start to smile again.

“It’s always been a bad thing,” Merlin admitted. “I had to keep it hidden, but it acts up sometimes and I don’t know how to control it when it does. Mum was always worried I’d accidently hurt someone and get into trouble… you hear about things happening around magic users and mine can go a bit wild sometimes.”

“There are special schools,” Arthur pointed out. Though they hadn’t done Morgana any good. “You can learn to control it, sometimes.”

“Only if you have money. We’re not penniless, but we’re definitely not rich either. And they’re all a long, long way from Ealdor. Even if we could have afforded it, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave Mum.”

“So you’ve hidden it all your life?”

“Tried to.”

“Magic is nothing to be ashamed of,” Gaius told him. “Unless you’re abusing the use of it like Agravaine and his friends. You need to learn to control your abilities, Merlin. I will help you with that, but no more secrets, okay?”

Arthur frowned. “How are you going to help him with controlling his magic?”

“I may have some knowledge,” Gaius admitted. 

“Knowledge, or ability?” Arthur asked suspiciously. 

Gaius looked a little guilty. “A small amount of ability.”

“Really?” Merlin asked. “I’ve never met anyone else with it. Well, except for in that place, but that doesn’t count.”

“No more secrets,” Arthur echoed ironically, looking at Gaius accusingly. “How long have I known you?”

Gaius shrugged. “How did you think I came up with all the impossible robotic solutions? Really, Arthur. And yes, Merlin, I do. But I suspect nothing like what you must have to have survived your terrible ordeal, you poor boy.”

“Does my father know?” Arthur asked, still fixated on Gaius’ revelation. Uther hadn’t been overly happy about Morgana’s condition. In fact, as Arthur recalled, he’d at one stage taken her to various expensive doctors to try to ‘cure’ her of it. He’d soon relented, but she’d never completely forgiven him.

“I’ve never seen any reason to tell him,” Gaius admitted. “Morgana knew, obviously. I tried to help her but that was sadly all in vain.”

“Morgana was your sister?” Merlin queried. “The one you said had magic?”

“Yes,” Arthur told him. “Two years younger. She was my half-sister, technically, but her mother dumped Morgana on Uther shortly after she was born and went back to her husband. Her mother, obviously, is where Morgana inherited the magic from. I don’t have any.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Merlin smiled briefly, then ducked his head, embarrassed. He didn’t pull his hand away though. Arthur smiled back, then continued with what he was saying.

“Morgana found it hard once she reached her teens. It was a difficult time. She couldn’t control her magic at all. She had visions. When I came home after uni she was really bad. It had driven her half-mad, I could hear her screaming all through the house, night after night. I couldn’t do anything to help her. I tried sitting with her, I tried talking, listening, I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted it to stop. And then, one night, it did stop. There was silence, all night and I was pleased. I thought she’d managed to sleep,” he gave a bitter laugh. “And in the morning they found her. She’d taken an overdose, left a note saying it was the only way to make the voices stop.”

“She died of an overdose?” Merlin mused.

“Yes. Her sleeping pills. She’d been saving them up, and nobody noticed. The doctors just thought they weren’t working, and prescribed stronger ones. My father sued, but it was only money. It didn’t bring her back.”

“And then he foolishly decided to have a clone made,” Gaius put in. “Horrendous mockery of life. It was nothing like her, of course.”

“Oh.” Merlin looked disappointed on hearing that last line. “I wondered…” he began, but then stopped.

“What did you wonder?” Arthur asked. He still had hold of Merlin’s hand but as the other man seemed in no hurry to free himself, Arthur didn’t let go.

“I just thought, if it was drugs there would be no marks on her body, like with me. And she had magic…”

“You think she might still be Morgana!” Arthur grasped at the idea, and the hope within it.

“No, now Arthur you’ve met the clone, it’s not Morgana,” Gaius put in quickly, but Arthur wasn’t listening.

“It could still be her. She might be afraid, hiding like you were!” He got to his feet. “We should go and see her, find out.”

“Arthur…” Gaius favoured Merlin with a brief disapproving look. “Please don’t get your hopes up on this. Look how quickly Merlin tried to escape. Morgana would have found a way out by now if it was her and she would have come straight to you and Uther. And you’ve already seen the clone. It was a pale imitation of that exceptional girl. Don’t torture yourself my boy.”

Arthur reluctantly sat back down, but he couldn’t let the idea go. For the rest of the session he was detached, considering the idea and how he could find out the truth on it.

Gaius, of course, noticed eventually. He was, as Arthur had expected, fascinated and horrified at what had happened to Merlin, and his need to learn more kept him distracted for a while, but when Merlin went out for a comfort break Arthur found Gaius’ attention immediately returned to him.

“No, Arthur,” he said at once. Arthur hadn’t even opened his mouth.

“I have to know.”

“I’m sure it’s not her. Look at Merlin, you only need spend a few minutes chatting to him to see he’s not some artificial intelligence. The clone of your sister was quite different.”

“I’m going to see her as soon as I have a chance,” Arthur insisted. “If it happened to Merlin because of his magic it could happen to her too.” 

Gaius simply raised his eyebrow disapprovingly. Arthur ignored it or at least did his best to appear as if he were. Gaius just tutted, then was briefly distracted by a report coming back from one of the many tests he’d run on Merlin. He read it through quickly, nodded at whatever he’d found, then spoke to Arthur again.

“What are we going to do about Merlin?” he asked. “The poor boy’s already been through too much. Your father will want him right at the centre of any campaign to take down Agravaine as soon as he hears about this. I don’t know if he’s strong enough after everything he’s been through.”

Arthur wasn’t sure either, and his instinct was to protect Merlin against any further pain. But they all had a duty in this. Agravaine couldn’t be allowed to continue, and the only way to stop it would be to use Merlin. “I can’t just sit by, knowing this is happening, and not do anything. And I don’t think Merlin would want to either. But we’ll give him the choice.”

“And I do want to.”

Neither of them had heard Merlin come back in, but he was looking at them both earnestly as he sat back down. “I’ll do whatever I can to stop this happening to anyone else.”

“It’s dangerous,” Gaius warned. “You’ll be making yourself a target.”

“Isn’t it more dangerous to keep quiet?” Merlin pointed out. “Right now I have no rights, nothing to say I’m alive. My mum thinks I’m dead. I can’t do anything, can’t carry on studying, can’t work, can’t vote. I might as well really be a clone, though who’s to say they shouldn’t have some rights too?”

“Quite,” Gaius put in.

“The only way to stop this is for someone to stand up and tell the truth. So that’s what I’m going to do,” Merlin announced. He looked at Arthur. “You’re okay with this? I mean, you’ll get dragged into it too. You bought me.”

“It won’t reflect badly on Arthur,” Gaius noted. “Quite the opposite, he saw what you are, believed you, and he’ll be helping make a difference. He’s not harmed you in any way.”

“I did make him eat the clone food,” Arthur admitted, glancing at the bowlful of the gelatinous muck that Merlin had dutifully made up for Gaius to study.

“Yeah, I might never forgive you for that!” Merlin grinned.

“You might not,” Gaius said seriously. “I’ll need to run further tests and get a specialist to look at it, but the initial findings are showing that although it contains all the proteins and nutrients necessary for survival and good physical health, it also has a heavy dose of mood suppressant and tranquilising properties. It’s intended to ensure obedience.”

“No wonder you weren’t supposed to eat anything else,” Arthur realised. “Though you did eat some. It didn’t work very well.”

“Ah, well that’s probably because he also ingested other stimulants. Tea, I think you said. And he only ate the one portion while he was with you, my guess is that it builds up in the system.”

“Surely they would have already dosed him up before sending him to me?”

“Yes,” Gaius agreed. “But, and this is the most important thing in your case, Merlin, your magic must be fighting it just like it’s been fighting everything else they’ve done to you.”

Merlin shifted awkwardly, and Arthur wondered if he still wasn’t comfortable discussing his magic with them despite their acceptance of it. He took Merlin’s hand again as that had seemed to help earlier. 

“You need to start accepting that your magic’s a good thing,” he told him. 

“You said you didn’t trust magic.”

“I don’t. But only when it’s used in the wrong way. Yours is obviously good.”

“Actually, yours must be extremely powerful, Merlin,” Gaius put in. “It’s been protecting you without you even realising it. I wonder what you’ll be able to do with a little training.”

“I was going to be a doctor,” Merlin admitted. “I was hoping that at uni people would be a bit more accepting. I’d gone for a course where you could do a unit in magical medicine in the second year, if you wanted. I was going to see how things went and hopefully sign up for it.”

“Magical medicine,” Gaius hummed happily. “Wonderful. I so nearly went into that area myself. But we were making breakthroughs with the early robotics and that turned into a career instead of a hobby. No regrets, but yes my boy, you must carry on down that path. Just think, if we can find how they brought you back then that could be used for so much good.”

“It could be horribly abused,” Arthur pointed out. “People kept alive way past their time.” He gave Merlin’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “But for bringing people back who went too early… that can only be a good thing.”

“So what are we going to do?” Merlin asked. “Go to the police?”

“I think we need to handle this very carefully,” Gaius warned. “Make sure there’s no chance of Agravaine and his friends tripping us up. No, someone far more ruthless than any of us needs to handle this one.” He looked to Arthur, who gave a wry smile.

“My father.”

\---

Uther Pendragon was a busy man. It took Arthur and Gaius several calls to his office and eventually needing to stand outside it before he relented and gave them an audience. Even then he only nodded to Gaius, before favouring Arthur with a particularly hard stare. Nothing new there then.

“I trust you’ve sobered up now?” he asked Arthur. Then his gaze fell on Merlin. Arthur had bought him some new clothes, despite Merlin’s protests about the money, but somehow Merlin had still managed to look like the university student he should have been. He’d even ruffled up his hair again. It was cute, but that was probably not something Uther was going to appreciate. “And who’s this?”

“This is Merlin.”

Merlin stepped forward and held out his hand. Uther looked at it disdainfully for a moment, then back at Arthur. He didn’t shake Merlin’s hand.

“Merlin and Arthur. Good grief. Please tell me you’re not here because you want to start up a medieval themed restaurant or something.” 

Arthur thought that was a bit rich considering who it was that would have named him, but he let it pass. “I bought him.”

Uther did a double-take at that. “I beg your pardon?”

“I bought him. One of the unique clones from Du Bois Inc.”

“You bought a clone? You paid money to our main rival?” Uther got to his feet, furious. “Arthur, what were you thinking? Oh I suppose you weren’t…”

“He’s not a clone,” Arthur put in quickly, having to raise his voice to be heard. 

Uther stopped, and frowned. “You just said he was.”

“Arthur bought what he thought was a unique clone to study, to try to get ahead of our rivals,” Gaius told him. “Very enterprising. But he quickly discovered Merlin is no clone.”

Uther sat down. “I’m listening.”

That was a first, Arthur thought. “Merlin died, he drowned.”

Uther raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Du Bois have a new range of unique clones. But they aren’t clones. They’re the bodies of people who have died without disfiguring marks. Somehow they’re getting hold of them, I don’t know how.”

“Probably a loophole in the organ donor legislation,” Gaius guessed. “Merlin carried a card.”

“Maybe. But they’re doing it, then using magic to bring the body back to life. They wipe all memories, and leave a blank slate. It appears to be a clone, but it’s not. It’s slavery, Father.”

“And murder, really,” Merlin put in. “Having your memories wiped, it’s like dying all over again.”

Uther eyed him suspiciously, obviously not buying it. “And yet presumably you think you remember this?” He looked at Gaius. “Are you sure this isn’t some glitch in its programming?”

“Merlin is not an it!” Arthur snarled. “He has magic, powerful magic, that’s what protected him.”

Merlin still looked uncomfortable at the mention of his magic, particularly at the pointedly mis-trustful way that Uther looked at him when Arthur said it. 

“Magic,” Uther mused. “This gets more unlikely by the moment.”

“You know it exists. Morgana had magic,” Arthur reminded his father, and felt immediately guilty for the slight flinch Uther gave at the mention of her name.

“I’m not querying its existence, Arthur. What I’m querying is how we know this… whatever he is… how we know if what he says is the truth. He could be a plant from Agravaine sent to discredit us. Don’t you think it’s curious how he’s ended up with you?”

Gaius stepped forward and put a file on the desk in front of Uther. “I wondered the same thing. But we’ve run some quite extensive tests, and I’m convinced. All my findings so far are in there. Merlin has memories, detailed ones of his childhood. His magic is healing him all the time. At present he can’t leave Arthur, but even that restraint seems to be weakening. He’s overcoming everything that has been done to him.”

Uther flipped open the file and flicked through the contents, pausing on one or two pages but still looking dubious. “But you say they’re using magic to revive these people? We don’t know that whatever he’s claiming is just an outcome of that. You can’t prove it. This all looks genuine enough, but on the other hand there’s nothing to say that he wasn’t grown in a test tube just like any other clone.”

Merlin held out his arm. There was a very faint white line, about two inches long, across his forearm. “I got that when I was nine, I fell out of a tree down the lane near where I live. You can see it’s an old scar. They didn’t notice it because it’s so faded. But clones don’t have old scars. And I could tell you everything about my life. I remember it all. My mum’ll be able to back me up, ask me things only I could know. I’m genuine.” He sounded so sincere, Arthur didn’t know how anyone could fail to believe him. And, finally, it seemed to have got through to Arthur’s father.

“Well…” Uther paused, gazing at Merlin long and hard as if he were some particularly precious object to be attained. “If what you claim is true, Arthur, if this clone… if this _boy_ is all that you say he is… why, that’s _wonderful_ news!” He leaned back in his chair, still unable to take his eyes off Merlin. “Wonderful, wonderful news.”

“Hardly, Father!” Arthur exclaimed. “Did you not hear what I said? These are real people, not clones. What’s being done is appalling. We have to stop it.”

“Yes, yes,” Uther got up, stood in front of Merlin and beamed at him. The sight was mildly disconcerting. “And we _will_ stop it, have no fear of that. We’ll wipe out the clone industry entirely. And you, my boy, will help us. Now, first of all you’re willing to state that Arthur has never harmed you in any way?”

“Arthur’s never hurt me,” Merlin protested. “Arthur’s been nothing but kind and decent.” 

“Excellent!” Uther slapped Merlin on the shoulder before finally letting him go and turning to his son. Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his father look so happy. “This is a stroke of genius, Arthur. This is going to be the end of Agravaine’s business, and a new resurgence for ours. We might not have to merge with Aredian after all.”

“I thought you were all for that?” Arthur queried.

“Only because we’ve both been struggling against the popularity of the clone industry. With that gone we can carry on as before. Can you imagine the outcry there’s going to be? Oh, I can’t wait to see that smug, self-satisfied smile wiped off Agravaine’s face.” He turned and pressed the intercom on his desk. “Gwen! Get in here!”

Uther’s sweet-faced and long-suffering PA Gwen Smith hurried into the office. She gave Arthur and Gaius a quick smile, before turning her full attention to her boss. Arthur often wondered how she put up with his father, she always looked as if she’d be better suited to a career cuddling small fluffy animals.

“Sir?”

“Get Monmouth on the phone for me. I’ve got a story for him personally but we need to be very careful how we break it so aren’t giving any details yet. Tell him I want a private meeting, ASAP.”

“He’ll try to send someone junior,” Gwen warned. 

“See that he doesn’t. Tell him I speak to him or no-one. And that he’ll want to hear this one.”

“Who’s Monmouth?” Merlin whispered to Arthur.

“Geoffrey Monmouth? Seriously, you’ve never heard of him?”

“Well… the TV journalist guy, but…” Merlin paused as Arthur nodded his head. “Him? Seriously?”

“I like to use the best,” Uther told him. “Monmouth owes me a favour, but he’ll lap this up when he hears. Now what about this mother of yours? How quickly can we get her to Camelot?”

“She doesn’t know yet,” Arthur pointed out. “It’s going to be a shock.”

Uther shrugged. “But a good one. She’ll be fine. Get her down here by tomorrow, I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

Arthur cringed inwardly. His father always thought he could buy anything. There would be nothing subtle about however he intended breaking the news to Merlin’s mother. Whatever they did, however they did it, she was going to have a massive shock and regardless of the fact that she was certain to be glad her son was alive, hearing what had happened to him was going to be devastating. Merlin was gazing at Uther in dismay. No doubt he was revising his opinion of the man’s character.

“We’ll drive over and fetch her,” Arthur promised him. “Just you and I, so we can tell her privately first. Maybe spend a few days down there.”

“Tomorrow,” Uther reminded him. 

“The poor woman will need time to adjust,” Gaius pointed out. “Arthur’s is a good idea. And,” he added when Uther looked as if he might protest again. “I know having her distressed will be good for the publicity you want to generate, and will make Agravaine look worse, but really Uther, have a heart. How would you feel if it were Morgana?”

Uther did actually look contrite at that. “Of course,” he sighed, sitting down in the massive leather chair behind his desk. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he added to Merlin. “Take as long as you need. I was getting carried away. But we do need to break the story as quickly as possible. If they get wind of it, there will be attempts to cover their tracks. You and your mother will be in danger. So, I would prefer that you were both here where we can hire security to protect you.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said. “I really just want to see her again.”

Uther nodded. “And she’ll want to see you. I wish…” he paused, looking away, past Merlin for a moment, then shook his head. “Never mind. Arthur,” he turned to his son. “Don’t mess this up.”

Arthur could sense Merlin looking at him curiously, but didn’t acknowledge it. Merlin’s mother was probably nurturing and kind, he wouldn’t understand what it was like being Uther’s heir.

“I won’t,” was all he said.

\---


	6. Chapter 6

By mid-afternoon they were on the road.

Arthur’s car was exactly what Merlin had expected. Expensive and fast, better than anything he’d ever travelled in. And Arthur drove the thing himself, no relying on robots or auto guidance or anything. His insurance probably cost a fortune.

Merlin wasn’t used to being driven around by humans. The buses in Ealdor were all automated, and any cars owned by people Merlin was likely to have a lift from would be either automated as well or at best driven by a robot. One from Arthur’s company, Merlin realised. He still found it amazing that he’d been purchased by the son of the man who founded Pendragon Robotics. Not that he was overly impressed with Uther Pendragon now that he’d met him. But Arthur was something else.

Arthur was sitting in the driving seat, window down, his blond hair blowing in the breeze. He wasn’t perfect, nobody was, but he was close enough to Merlin’s ideal type of man. And besides, Merlin was already a little bit in love with him because of the whole rescue thing. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened if someone other than Arthur had bought him. But that was behind him now, and he was starting to dare to look to the future again.

He wanted that future to include the man beside him, if possible. It was just so strange that he still wasn’t feeling any physical arousal when he looked at Arthur. Arthur was so amazing in every way. It was the trauma still. It had to be. And he wasn’t going to worry about it because Arthur was right there, and anyway he was on his way to see his mum. Things were good.

Arthur glanced at him and caught him staring. There was a small smile playing around Arthur’s lips as his gaze returned to the road ahead. 

“What?”

Arthur shrugged. “Just good to see you looking happy.”

Merlin realised he’d been smiling at Arthur. He couldn’t help it, Arthur was rapidly turning out to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. “I am happy. I’m going to see my mum!”

“Yeah,” Arthur’s smile faded just a little. “That must be good.”

Arthur’s mother didn’t appear to be in his life at all. There had been a photo on Uther’s desk, Merlin had noticed. A beautiful, kind-faced blonde woman with Arthur’s eyes. But it was an old picture, Uther couldn’t have been much older than Arthur was. “Your mother’s not around?” he ventured tentatively.

“She died when I was born,” Arthur told him. “So I never knew her. I always wonder what she’d think of me.”

“She’d be proud,” Merlin said confidently, and was rewarded with a brief, wry smile.

“Proud. My father would have something to say about that. He never thinks I’m good enough. I got a bit drunk at a launch a few weeks back, he’s been holding that disappointment over me ever since.”

“He wasn’t what I’d expected,” Merlin admitted. “He’s not like you at all.”

“No.”

Somehow Merlin thought he hadn’t actually cheered Arthur with that statement. “You’re so much better.”

Arthur laughed at that. “Don’t tell him that, he’ll send you straight back to Du Bois as an obviously faulty model! Deluded is what he’ll tell you that you are!” 

Merlin didn’t laugh. “He’d be wrong. Arthur, if I’d gone to someone else…”

“Don’t even think about that,” Arthur warned. “You didn’t. You came to me and I’m going to make everything right.”

“We’re going to make everything right,” Merlin corrected. “Both of us. Together. And if it helps your father’s business thrive then he can just give you kudos for that. That’s not what’s important here.”

“No,” Arthur agreed. “This can’t happen to anyone else. We’re going to stop it. We’ll make a difference.”

“Yes! And Mum’s tough. Had to be, bringing me up by herself. She’ll understand that your dad was right about needing to move quickly.”

“Dad…” Arthur mused. “He hates it if I call him that.” He adopted a serious, even posher voice. “Dad is a slang term, Arthur. Really, haven’t I brought you up better than that? I am your _father_.”

Merlin grimaced. “Does he think he’s Darth Vader? If I called Mum mother, it would be because she’d been doing something silly and I was telling her off. Or she might be singing. Oh god, her singing… she sings when she’s happy. She’ll probably make us tea and you’ll hear her. She’s tone deaf. Don’t hold it against me!”

“She sounds wonderful. Hope she’s better in the kitchen than you!”

Merlin laughed. “She’s an amazing cook. Just hint that you want cake and she’ll start baking.”

Arthur gave a little air punch. “Yes!”

“Greedy.”

“You ate all my biscuits.”

“You made me eat clone gloop!”

“Once! Just once! And you were going to steal all my remaining biscuits.”

“Get used to it!”

They both laughed, already easy in each other’s company. Merlin was slightly in awe of how very, very comfortable he felt around Arthur, as if they’d been friends forever. And yet they were poles apart in situation. If Arthur had driven into Ealdor in that car a few months back, he and Will would have been contemptuous of the rich prat. Will would probably have let his tyres down given half a chance. 

Will. Merlin really wanted to see him again. Almost as much as he wanted to see his mum. And he couldn’t wait to hear her singing again, awful as it was. And to see Aithusa racing towards them, barking happily. Ah. Aithusa. He glanced at Arthur’s dark jeans. Probably designer. Definitely expensive. Aithusa’s white coat would probably shed all over them. He remembered Gwaine had kept a safe distance.

“Arthur,” he ventured tentatively. “What are your feelings about dogs? Particularly little ones that yap a lot and get over-excited at visitors?”

“I always wanted a dog,” Arthur admitted. “Though I wanted a big one. A golden retriever or a lab. Figures you’d have a little yappy one.”

“Aithusa’s a white West Highland Terrier. He’s the cutest thing you ever saw. I was going to get a golden retriever, but when we went to the rescue centre there he was. He was just a tiny little pup that got abandoned along with the rest of the litter. Aithusa was the only one that survived. He’s been with us for four years now. He’ll be all over you, he loves new people.”

“Can’t wait to meet him.”

“He’ll shed all over you,” Merlin warned, but Arthur just shrugged.

“I like animals. Even little yappy ones,” he glanced at Merlin, teasing.

“That was a dig at me, wasn’t it?”

“Yep!”

“Prat.”

“I think the word you used was ‘amazing’,” Arthur corrected, laughing at him.

“Amazing prat. I forgot to add prat.”

Arthur just laughed more. Merlin tried to look cross, but Arthur’s rich laugh was infectious and he couldn’t help smiling too. He gazed across at Arthur, who glanced back at him, gave a little nod and mouthed ‘amazing’ again.

Merlin couldn’t help it. He was falling, and he knew it. Somehow though, he thought that with Arthur, it would be okay to fall. Better than okay. Bloody brilliant. 

Amazing.

\---

Sundays were probably Hunith Emrys’ least favourite day of the week. 

There was no work to go to, nothing that would distract her. She wasn’t religious so didn’t fancy joining the local church so that there was a regular Sunday event for her. Sometimes she’d spend the day with friends, but often as not she was at home with only the dog for company. 

That particular Sunday hadn’t been so bad. She’d driven over to the nearest big town with Julia, Will’s mother, and they’d had a shopping day with little shopping and much coffee and chat. But all too soon it seemed she was home alone again with another week stretching in front of her. Julia had stayed for yet another coffee and they’d talked some more about Hunith’s possible move. Hunith would miss her friend when the time came, but the memories were still too much. Even months later, she still expected to see Merlin come running down the stairs when she came in, ready to raid the shopping for whatever treats she might have bought.

Hunith stood at the kitchen sink, looking out of her window as she washed up the cups. She would miss the view, miss the pretty little lane where she lived and the mountains in the distance. There would never be another view as beautiful.

A large, expensive looking car was making its way up the lane. There were only a few houses on the lane, and Hunith knew most the vehicles that drove up there. It was probably someone for the farm at the end, she thought. They had all sorts of people in and out. But the car stopped outside her house, and reversed onto the driveway. Hunith leaned forward to get a better look, but the car had tinted windows and she couldn’t make out more than that there were two figures inside. Aithusa, of course, was getting over-excited already. Silly dog. 

“Shush Aithusa!” she called, with little hope of being obeyed. He was still Merlin’s dog through and through and didn’t always listen to her, especially when he was excited. Just like her little boy.

A handsome young blond man was getting out of the car. Hunith couldn’t help thinking that her Merlin would have probably commented that he was pretty hot, and then probably either got a fit of shyness or rushed out to see what the man wanted. Probably the latter, Merlin was far more confident of late.

Had been, not was, she reminded herself sadly.

Whoever he was, the man bent to speak to whoever was still in the car, and then closed the door, heading up the path to her house. Aithusa was still barking loudly.

“At least I’ll never get burgled with you around,” Hunith sighed, drying her hands and walking to the door as the bell sounded. “Shush, it’s probably just someone who’s gone the wrong way.”

Aithusa was jumping up at the door so she picked him up before opening it. Someone who drove a car like that probably wouldn’t welcome being leapt all over by an over-enthusiastic terrier.

“Mrs Emrys?”

The man was far too good-looking, and everything about him screamed money. Quite how anyone could make a Henley and jeans look expensive was beyond Hunith, but her visitor managed it. Also, he did seem to be at the right place, though she had no idea why.

“Yes,” she said warily. 

The man gave her a huge smile and stuck out his hand. “I’m Arthur Pendragon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Aithusa was struggling to get down but Hunith hung on tight. “Sorry, if I let him go he’ll jump all over you. He’s not usually this bad.” 

Arthur withdrew his hand and stood there looking at Aithusa, still smiling. “He’s a cute dog.”

“Yes. Look, if you’re selling something…”

“Ah, no. I’m here about your son.”

Another journalist. Hunith’s heart sank. She thought she’d seen the last of them months ago. Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d lost her boy without them raking up the story again?

“I have nothing more to say. And if you people turn up here again I’ll make a complaint to the Press Commission.” She moved to close the door, but Arthur put his hand out to stop her.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m not a journalist. I’m Arthur Pendragon as in Pendragon Robotics. I need to talk to you about Merlin. And a cloning company called Du Bois Inc. Ever heard of them?”

“Clones? Yes, they tried to persuade me to commission a clone of my son. As if anyone would try such a disgusting thing, though apparently it’s a standard offer to bereaved families these days. I refused, I couldn’t afford it anyway, and that was the end of it. Horrible idea. And if you’re here to sell me a robot version of my boy then please leave immediately.” 

“I’m not. I actually lost my sister a few years back. Our father had a clone commissioned. It wasn’t a success. So I understand why you’d be upset at the idea, and I agree that it’s horrible. I’m not here to sell you anything, or as a member of the press, or anything like that. But I do need to talk to you, and you are going to want to hear what I say.”

Aithusa was still struggling madly, barking away. Hunith wondered what it was that was getting him so worked up. Perhaps it was a warning to be wary of their visitor. But Arthur seemed genuine enough, he had even fished out an ID card from his wallet to show her.

“If you could just spare me a little of your time. Please?”

There was something about Arthur that just made her want to trust him. Probably the blue eyes and the hopeful smile, and the fact that if her boy had lived she just knew he’d be making heart-eyes at this man right now. And she’d heard of Pendragon Robotics, everyone had. They were famous, the pioneers. Uther Pendragon’s face had been everywhere at one stage, before cloning became more popular. The son wasn’t as well known, but then he probably was still at school when his father became famous. She sighed, and stepped back.

“Come on in then. But you’d better not be selling anything!”

Arthur’s smile widened and he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. Hunith took him into the kitchen and offered him a seat.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Not just yet. Please sit with me, what I’m going to tell you is going to be a shock. We’ll probably both want something stronger than a cup of tea when I’m finished.”

That was odd, but Hunith did as she was bid. Aithusa was still making a bid for freedom so she put him down. Strangely, instead of leaping all over Arthur he headed back to the front door. She could hear him scrabbling at it, whining and barking in turn.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, then called to the dog as sternly as she could. Aithusa quietened, but didn’t come back in. “I don’t know what’s got into him.”

“I do,” Arthur told her. “I’m here about Merlin, as I said. And I’m sorry, because I know this is going to be painful at first, and then hard to believe. I struggled to believe it, but I’m convinced now. Merlin is alive.”

Hunith stood up, immediately on the defensive. That was a cruel thing to say. “Please leave, Mr Pendragon. I don’t know what you’re gaining from this, but I would like you to leave at once.”

Arthur remained seated, his face grim and determined. “The cloning industry has started a new and disturbing side-line. I have to ask… were you offered money for Merlin’s body?”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.” Hunith found it hard to control her temper. How dare this man come here and ask such terrible things.

“Unmarked bodies are being sold on, I don’t know whether it’s by relatives or undertakers or what’s happening, we’ve only just discovered that it’s happening so we’re still looking into it. But Du Bois are taking bodies and using magic to resuscitate people. Young, attractive people. People like your son. They resuscitate them, and they wipe their memories.”

Hunith sat back down, pale and shaking. Arthur was right, she definitely needed something stronger than tea. “Magic…”

“Merlin has magic.”

“Had,” Hunith whispered. “Please stop saying these things. I had to identify his body. I saw his face. I’ll never forget his face. Please…” The sightless eyes, the pale skin… he’d been so very still when her Merlin was never, ever still.

Arthur reached across and took her hand. Part of her wanted to pull away, but stronger was the need for the comfort. “I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I don’t know any better way to break it to you. We didn’t think it was a good idea for him to just walk in here with me. That’s why your dog is so agitated. He can sense Merlin outside.”

“Outside?” Hunith breathed. “No… no, you’re mistaken. He was dead, I saw the body… I touched the body… oh god. Arthur, magic can’t do that. Merlin had magic… we didn’t know what to do with it, but it was just little things that he could do. He hid it, because there’s so much prejudice.”

“I know. But he was going to be a doctor, specialise in magical medicine, use it for good.”

Hunith stared at him, her vision blurry through the tears that had welled up. “How can you know that? No, wait, he had a place waiting for him. You’ve searched the records.”

“I did search the records because I didn’t believe him. How could I believe something so horrible had been done?”

“Horrible?” Hunith knew she kept repeating what Arthur said, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt stunned, helpless. “You said he was alive.”

“He is, and he’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll call him in when you’re ready. But it wasn’t done to save him, Mrs Emrys. It was done because those unique clones they’re selling… some of them, maybe all of them, they’re unique because they’re not clones at all. And Merlin would have been one of those if his magic hadn’t saved him. And if he’d been bought by someone else.”

“What do you mean?” Hunith gasped. “Bought? Someone bought him? Oh my god!”

Arthur looked down for a moment, and she thought he seemed ashamed. But he met her gaze steadily when he raised his face again. “I bought him. I didn’t know, I had no idea that I was buying a real person. I’d seen a clone and it was fairly robotic. I wasn’t expecting anything human. I just wanted to see what the fuss was about, maybe see if there was a way we could improve our robots to make them more clone-like. So I bought one to study. But Merlin was different right from the start, and when he tried to escape he admitted the truth.”

“Oh.” Hunith knew there were tears running down her face now but she didn’t care. “Why? Why would they… no, it’s money isn’t it? It’s always about money. Oh, why did he want to get away from you? What did you do?”

“Apparently I’m a prat,” Arthur told her with a wry smile, and she couldn’t help smiling through her tears. He squeezed her hand, gently, reassuringly. “I didn’t do anything worse than have him cook me dinner. Which isn’t something I’ll be doing again any time soon, let me tell you! He wanted to come home to you, that’s why he tried to get away, not because of anything I’d done. So I’ve brought him back.”

“He’s outside?” Hunith knew that she shouldn’t be believing this, that it was probably just some cruel trick. But she wanted so much for the impossible to be true. Aithusa was barking and scratching at the front door again, unable to be obedient for long.

“Yes.” Arthur got up, letting go of her hand. “I’ll go and get him before your dog scratches your door to shreds out there.”

Arthur didn’t go to the door, just to the kitchen window, where he tapped on the glass and gestured to the person in the car to come in. For a moment, Hunith just sat there, unable to move. Then heard the car door slam shut and got up, hurrying across to Arthur’s side.

“Oh…”

It was him. He was thinner and paler than she remembered. His hair was shorter, far neater than she’d ever been able to persuade him to wear it, and he was wearing clothes that were slightly too big for his slender frame, but it was her boy. Some part of her brain told her that this had to be a clone, that it wasn’t possible for Merlin to be there, but her heart was almost bursting with happiness at the vision before her and she didn’t listen. 

Somehow she was at the front door, fumbling with the lock, Aithusa barking excitedly at her feet. And then it was open and Merlin was there, real and breathing and alive.

“Mum,” was all he said before she pulled him into a hug. “Oh Mum…”

For a few moments she just held him, relief washing over her. 

“I don’t understand how you’re back,” she told him. “But I’ll never stop being glad of it. Never.”

“It was my magic. We never knew what it could do. Gaius… that’s this scientist guy in Arthur’s company… he says it’s really strong. It wouldn’t let anyone else’s magic wipe me out.”

“Thank goodness you have it. Not a curse after all, you see?”

“Definitely not,” Arthur commented, and Hunith suddenly remembered he was there. 

She released her son, and shut the door, wiping at her face to brush away the tears. “Come on, into the kitchen. You look thin as anything, when was the last time you had a decent meal?”

“He had a good breakfast this morning,” Arthur assured her. “But before he came to me he wasn’t doing so well.”

Merlin reached down to pet Aithusa, who went half-delirious with delight, trying to leap up at him. “I’m okay, Mum.” He picked Aithusa up, which seemed to calm the little dog down a bit, though the white tail was still wagging frantically. “I was lucky. Arthur’s a really decent guy.”

“Yes,” Hunith smiled warmly at Arthur. Anything could have happened to her son if he hadn’t gone to that man. It didn’t bear thinking about. “I can tell. And you both look hungry,” Hunith continued, though Arthur looked nothing of the sort but she had to do something, anything to occupy herself or she felt that she might explode from sheer joy. Her boy was back. “I’m cooking us all a celebratory meal, and you’ll stay of course, Arthur. I hope you don’t have to go back to Camelot immediately?”

She saw the two men exchange a wary glance, and knew what was coming even before they said it. Because of course Merlin wouldn’t be able to stay with her after whatever had happened.

“We do need to go back in the morning,” Merlin admitted. “There’s a lot to discuss. Dinner would be great though.”

“As long as Merlin doesn’t cook it,” Arthur added. “He’s an amazing cook. Just not a good sort of amazing.”

“Says the man who doesn’t actually have any food in his kitchen.”

“I had biscuits. Until you ate them. Two packets, Merlin. Two whole packets!”

“Part of _one_ packet yesterday, which you shared. The other packet we both ate on the journey over here today. You’re exaggerating.”

Hunith looked from one to the other, a half-smile on her face. She was right about her first impression of Arthur, she thought, he was exactly the sort of man that her son would find attractive. And judging by the fond expression on Arthur’s face as he bantered back and forth with Merlin, it was mutual. Well, she thought, Merlin could do a lot worse.

“Come along,” she urged. “You’re lucky, I’ve just been shopping.”

Merlin immediately made a bee-line for the kitchen and started opening the cupboards.

“How is he so slim?” Arthur asked. “He’s obsessed with food!”

“I don’t know where he puts it,” Hunith admitted. “He doesn’t get it from me, I wish he did. I just look at a cake and I’ll have put on a couple of pounds. His father was thin as a rake.” She noticed Arthur didn’t ask about Merlin’s father, and wondered whether he was being diplomatic or whether Merlin had already told him that his father had vanished years ago without even knowing Merlin was on the way. Hunith didn’t regret it even on the most difficult days, she couldn’t, not when she loved her son so much. But she would have liked to have brought Merlin up with a father.

Aithusa wriggled out of Merlin’s arms and practically bounced back to the kitchen ahead of them, tail wagging happily, looking so pleased with himself that anyone would have thought he was the one who had been responsible for Merlin’s return. 

“Didn’t miss me that much then,” Merlin commented, grinning at the retreating figure of their pet.

“He pined for you,” Hunith admitted. “We all did.” 

That brought Merlin back for another tearful hug. Arthur edged past them, probably uncomfortable.

“I’ll put the kettle on” he offered.

“Please,” Hunith smiled. “Ah, Merlin, you finally bring a nice polite boy home,” she whispered when Arthur was out of earshot. 

“It’s not like that with Arthur,” Merlin protested.

“Sure?”

“Yes!”

“No chance of it turning into that?” she teased. “Because from where I’m standing…”

“Mum…” Merlin groaned. “Don’t!”

And there was her boy, blushing to the tips of his ears, embarrassed because of someone he fancied again, just like he’d always been. She couldn’t help hugging him even tighter. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to have you back. We need to call Will. And Gwaine. Poor, poor Gwaine…”

“Is he okay?” Merlin was instantly worried. “He was with me, I thought at the end that he jumped in but it’s all so hazy. He was shouting that he was going to jump in.”

“He did, he nearly drowned himself but he’d had the sense to jump in with the life preserver. And the emergency services got there in time. Oh, poor Gwaine, he was devastated. Blamed himself. He’s never left Ealdor, he and Will are at each other’s throats all the time because Will blamed him too.”

“It wasn’t Gwaine’s fault. I was showing off. He tried to stop me.”

“Hmm. Well make sure you tell Will that. It’ll be good to put an end to all their arguing. Gwaine’s a kind lad really for all his bad boy reputation, keeps trying to help me with things round the house. I tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he doesn’t believe it. I know how you were always insisting on going over that stupid, stupid bridge. No, I need to call him, Will too. Oh, they’re going to be so happy. I still can’t believe it!” She hugged him close again.

She thought she might never want to let go.

\---

Arthur watched Merlin and his mother as they chatted together in the kitchen.

Hunith was making them all dinner, and it was already starting to smell good. Merlin was supposedly helping, but his help seemed to consist of picking at the food. Raw mushrooms, a bag of crisps, several biscuits and two cups of tea…

“You’ll be too full to eat any dinner,” Arthur pointed out.

“No chance of that,” Hunith told him. 

Arthur would have liked a mother. Specifically, he would have liked a mother like Hunith, warm and homely, glowing with love for her son. He felt a little like an intruder on their private reunion, and at one point offered to go and sit in another room and leave them to have some private time. But then _he_ had been hugged and thanked all over again and told not to be so silly because he was the one who had brought her boy home. 

“You’ll probably get the best bit of the roast anyway,” Merlin grumbled.

“Of course he will, he’s the guest!” Hunith told her son, swatting at him with the tea-towel. “And leave that cheesecake mix alone! Don’t pick at it! We have to eat... Oh.” She sighed as Merlin dipped a spoon into the mix and helped himself. “Hopeless. I’m sorry Arthur.”

“Needs a little more cornflour, it’s too runny,” Merlin told her, then looked surprised. “Sorry, I have things programmed in and sometimes it makes me say things. It’s getting better.”

“He advised me on my driving earlier,” Arthur put in, seeing the worry crossing Hunith’s face. They were, he realised, doing nothing to alleviate that.

“And I can’t drive,” Merlin added. “Although I probably can, now. It’s fading, but they did things to me and there’s knowledge I never had before. Pity it didn’t include medicine, I could’ve skipped uni and gone straight in!”

Uni.

It wasn’t the first time Merlin had mentioned it, there had been talk on the way over to Wales as well. Merlin had his heart set on getting his life back, and once things had settled down he was determined to take up his university place. He actually seemed to think that he was going to be able to pick up his life again from where he’d left off. Arthur wasn’t so sure it would be that easy, at least at first. There were going to be questions, investigations. Merlin had no idea what it was like to be hounded by the press. Arthur had been the subject of enough paparazzi spreads over the years. There was one particular photo of him face down in the street after a party. He hadn’t even been drunk, he’d just tripped over a broken paving slab but there had been a photographer there to capture the moment for posterity. His father had never let him hear the end of it, and wouldn’t listen to Arthur’s protests that he’d been perfectly sober at the time. Another disappointment for Uther Pendragon.

Arthur watched Hunith tutting affectionately at her son as he tried to swipe another spoonful of the cheesecake mix. She lifted the bowl out of his reach and set it down on her other side. There was so much love there. Arthur found himself missing Morgana more than ever. They’d been very close when they were younger, despite all their bickering. He’d never envisaged a world without her in it. A sister, not a mother, but she’d loved Arthur and he’d adored her right back. There was never a day when he didn’t miss her.

He wanted to visit her clone again, as soon as possible. Just to be absolutely sure it really was a clone and not his sister. Morgana had magic, just like Merlin did. If there was the very slightest chance…

The doorbell rang, startling him.

“Oh, would someone get that?” Hunith asked, busy with her cooking. 

Merlin moved to go, but Arthur caught his arm.

“I’d better do it,” he said. “You might give whoever it is a heart attack!”

“It’ll be Will or Gwaine,” Hunith called after him. “Break it to them gently.”

Aithusa was already heading for the front door, yapping happily, and Arthur nearly tripped over him. He picked the little dog up before opening the door, copying Hunith. Aithusa immediately tried to lick Arthur’s face.

There was a young man outside, probably about Merlin’s age with short-cropped brown hair. Arthur found himself being eyed with suspicion.

“Who’re you?” the man demanded. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Where’s Hunith?” The man leaned around Arthur to call into the house, “Hunith, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Will darling,” Hunith called back. “Arthur’s a friend.”

“And you should be polite to friends,” Arthur told him. There was something about Will that immediately rubbed him up the wrong way. The feeling appeared to be mutual. Will stepped inside, glared at Arthur and pushed past him. Arthur was pleased to see that Aithusa seemed to prefer to keep trying to lick Arthur rather than greeting Will. A dog of obviously discerning tastes, he thought. Still, perhaps Will would keel over from shock when he saw Merlin. That would serve him right. But Hunith and Merlin had seemed to like Will so…

“Will, wait a moment,” Arthur called. “Before you go in there…”

“What?” Will grumbled, but didn’t stop. “Who’s this posh twat, Hunith? He’s… _bloody hell!”_

Well, Arthur had tried to warn him.

_“Bloody fucking hell!”_

Arthur followed Will into the kitchen, where the other man had stopped dead, staring at Merlin. Will wasn’t showing any sign of actually keeling over though. Obviously it wasn’t Arthur’s lucky day. He really hoped Will wasn’t going to turn out to be Merlin’s ex-boyfriend or something. Gwaine was the last one, apparently, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more. Merlin had said Will was his best friend on the way over, but that could mean anything.

“Hi Will!” Merlin beamed, his grin stretching from ear to ear. Arthur had the distinct impression that Merlin was actually enjoying his friend’s shock. “Miss me?”

“Bloody _hell!”_

“Perhaps enough swearing?” Arthur suggested, nodding towards Hunith. “Ladies present.”

Will didn’t look impressed at the idea. “What did you do?” he demanded of Hunith. “Is it a robot?”

“It’s me,” Merlin told him, stepping closer. “I know it’s hard to believe…”

“Try impossible. We buried Merlin.”

“I don’t know what you buried, but it wasn’t me,” Merlin insisted. 

“I helped carry the coffin,” Will growled. “It wasn’t empty.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Arthur tried to explain. “We don’t know when they’re taking the bodies or what’s happening other than that it is. It’s a loophole in the donor card scheme, but obviously not a very legal one. It’s not going to stand up to scrutiny. Who knows how many have been affected? There’s going to be uproar. Everyone who ever lost anyone is going to wonder.”

“And who’re you?” Will demanded again.

“Arthur Pendragon.” Arthur stuck out his hand but Will just looked at it, then at Arthur again. “I’m vice-president of Pendragon Robotics, we make robots…”

“It’s a robot!” Will declared. “Don’t listen to him, Hunith. It’s a bloody robot, they can program them really cleverly now.”

“I’m not a robot!” Merlin snapped, but Will wasn’t listening.

“I knew I’d seen him somewhere before. You’re the son who’s inheriting the company. Big playboy, always on the news because you’ve got wasted on daddy’s money on a night out.”

“Don’t believe everything you read,” Arthur growled.

“Don’t need to, I can see it right in front of me. How much did that Henley cost? Bet it wasn’t a fiver in Primark!”

Arthur wasn’t sure what sort of shop Primark was, but if Will’s tatty t-shirt was an example then he could guess it wouldn’t be anywhere his father would want him buying anything.

“And if you’re making a replica of him,” Will continued, jerking his thumb towards Merlin. “At least make it realistic. Merlin wouldn’t be seen dead in posh clothes like that.”

“Will,” Hunith urged. “Please stop.”

Will hesitated, seemingly realising what he’d just said. “Sorry,” he nodded to Hunith. “Didn’t mean… well, you know. But that…” he gazed at Merlin. “That’s just wrong.”

“It was the magic,” Merlin told him. “Will, you know I have it. Others do too, they’re bringing people back, wiping their minds and selling them off as slaves.”

The doorbell went again at that moment. 

“I’ll get that, shall I?” Arthur offered, glad of the excuse to walk away from Will. Hunith had paused in the middle of her cooking to try to calm the situation but her hands were still covered in flour. They were going to get rhubarb crumble for dessert. Arthur _loved_ crumble and wasn’t going to have the making of it spoiled for anything. And if he stayed near Will for much longer he might be tempted to punch him. 

“That’ll be Gwaine,” Hunith called after him. “Best warn him first. Thank you, Arthur.”

He could hear Will and Merlin arguing behind him, but if it was this Gwaine person at the door Arthur supposed the argument would soon become three-way. Best thing was to get it all over and done with as soon as possible.

Gwaine, Arthur had already gathered, had been Merlin’s boyfriend or close enough. It wasn’t that Arthur was jealous exactly, because after all he was probably just some oik from the backwaters and… 

Arthur opened the front door and disliked Gwaine on first sight. The man was far too handsome, even though he looked drawn and tired, his eyes soft with too much pain in his young life. He needed a good haircut, because nobody should be allowed to have long, swishy, perfect hair like that. 

Okay, perhaps Arthur was a bit jealous. And at that point worried too. Perhaps calling Gwaine hadn’t been the best of ideas. Gwaine and Merlin might want to pick up where they’d left off. 

Gwaine regarded him curiously, then stuck out a hand. “Hunith called me. I’m Gwaine.”

“Arthur.” At least Gwaine had better manners than Will. It was something. Arthur shook his hand, trying not to think that if Merlin’s type was dark-haired and dark-eyed, then Arthur didn’t stand much of a chance. “I’m a friend of Merlin’s.”

Instantly Gwaine seemed to shrink in on himself. He actually took a step back, as if the mention of Merlin’s name was too much for him. “Merlin… yeah... Look, I don’t really want to go through what happened. I’ve been…”

“Merlin’s alive,” Arthur said quickly, before Gwaine backpedalled all the way down the path. 

“What?”

“I know it’s hard to believe…”

Gwaine’s expression turned stony. “Try impossible. I was there, I saw the body. I _touched_ the body. You ever touched a dead body, Arthur? It’s not the same. All the warm, all the life… it’s gone. There’s no mistaking it. And I’ll never forget what Merlin felt like, what he looked like. You’d better not be here bothering Mrs Emrys. She’s a good woman, she’s been through enough. Hunith!”

He barged past Arthur, not unlike Will after all. 

“Gwaine,” Arthur called after him. “Merlin’s in there.”

But it was too late and Gwaine had already marched through the living room to the kitchen. Unlike Will he didn’t stand there and swear. He went straight over to Merlin, then circled him warily, ignoring Merlin’s cheery greeting.

“What is it? Robot? Clone?” He reached out to touch the pulse in Merlin’s neck. “Clone.”

“It’s me,” Merlin assured him. “I was resuscitated.”

“Like hell!” Will growled. He moved closer to Gwaine, the two of them united in their disbelief. “Looks like him, doesn’t it?”

“Sounds like him too,” Gwaine agreed.

“Nice to see you two boys not fighting for once,” Hunith told them. “Now why don’t you both sit down and listen to what Merlin and Arthur have to say? Calmly.”

“Arthur as in Arthur Pendragon,” Will added to Gwaine. “Son of the robots guy.”

“Yeah, I recognised him. But it’s not a robot,” Gwaine mused. “Definitely a clone.” He looked at Arthur. “Are you branching out?”

“This is sick,” Will put in. “Hunith, we should call the cops.”

“Why don’t you ask me something only Merlin would know?” Merlin suggested. “Anything. Something that wouldn’t be on record anywhere.”

“They’re clever,” Gwaine mused. “If they got hold of his body, maybe they can revive memories.”

“You nicked thirty quid from the till at Simmonds because you wanted to take Sula Waters out. And you made me distract him while you did it, asking questions about some shampoo he’d got in. Turned out the one I picked up was a specialist one for head lice and he kept his distance after that. Then Sula went out with someone else and we spent the money on fish and chips and beer. And then when the till didn’t add up at the end of the day Simmonds took the money out of your wages anyway and you tried to make me pay you for the food and beer I’d consumed.”

“Will!” Hunith objected. “Is that true?”

“I could come up with other things,” Merlin warned. “Like Arianne Spencer’s…”

“No!” Will practically yelled, and Arthur made a mental note to ask Merlin later exactly what that was about. Will had gone a deep red. “We don’t talk about that, ever.”

Gwaine looked from one to the other. “You saying you believe him?” he asked Will.

“I’m not saying nothing,” Will growled. “But I don’t know how he could know those things.”

“Magic users do funny things,” Gwaine mused. “The skilled ones can do anything. They might have brought him back.”

“Merlin had magic,” Will suddenly latched onto that and Hunith gasped.

“Will!”

“What? If that’s him then it’s proof and if it’s not then it doesn’t matter. People knowing… it doesn’t matter now because he’s gone. But if that’s him…”

“Merlin didn’t have magic,” Gwaine protested. 

“I did,” Merlin said quietly, looking sadly at Gwaine, then away at Will. “I still do. It’s what saved me, what kept me as me.”

“You said that was other magic people.”

“No, the magic users at the Du Bois clone company revived me. But they tried to wipe everything that made me myself. Create a blank slate, something they could hang their own personality on. They tried to kill me all over again when they realised I’d woken up still remembering who I am.”

“And Merlin wasn’t the only one,” Arthur put in. “There were others. We can’t just let them get away with it.”

Gwaine narrowed his eyes, regarding Arthur suspiciously. “I’m sure I read something about the robotics industry going down the pan because everyone nowadays wants clones. Seems to me that you and your dad would stand to gain a lot from discrediting Du Bois.”

“That’s true,” Will agreed. He and Gwaine were almost standing shoulder to shoulder, arms folded. “If you’ve brought in magic users, you could have found out anything. Anything at all.”

Arthur sighed, and looked pleadingly over at Hunith. She’d stopped her cooking and was just watching them all, a worried look on her face. It suddenly occurred to him that she might be swayed by what Gwaine and Will were saying as well. A few moments ago it had seemed they were winning Will over, but not now. If Hunith started to doubt them then they had no chance.

“We have to convince you,” Merlin told them. “If you don’t believe me, how can I expect anyone else to? Look, clones are supposed to be perfect, I've got this scar on my arm…”

“Easy enough to put that there,” Will sniffed and Gwaine nodded. “Proves nothing.”

Aithusa trotted back into the room. He’d wandered off, briefly, just before Gwaine arrived, not even emerging when the doorbell rang. He had a red ball in his mouth, and he went over to Merlin, dropping it at his master’s feet, tail wagging eagerly. The dog had no doubt who Merlin was, that much was clear.

“I thought he’d lost that,” Hunith sighed. “Oh Merlin, he’s not brought that out since you… well… not since…”

“Since Merlin died,” Will put in helpfully. 

“The dog thinks it’s him,” Gwaine pointed out thoughtfully, watching Aithusa. “Animals… sometimes they can sense things.”

“It’s a clone. Aithusa’s just a mutt,” Will grumbled. “He’s a dog, Gwaine, not Sherlock. If it’s a clone it probably smells the same or something.”

Merlin crouched down to pet Aithusa and pick up the ball. “We’ll go out in a bit,” he promised. “I missed you too.” 

Aithusa gave a happy little bark and tried to lick Merlin’s face, jumping up, tail wagging furiously. Arthur found it reassuring in the face of the doubt from Merlin’s friends. They’d known him so much longer than Arthur had. Arthur wondered if he’d been too quick to accept Merlin’s story. What if he was a clone after all, programmed to make a fool of their rival’s son? Agravaine would do that, just to get at Uther.

“He really _does_ think it’s Merlin though,” Gwaine mused, still watching the dog.

“Because I _am_!” Merlin exclaimed. “Look, Will, you know I had magic, you just said that would be proof. Will that convince you?”

Will frowned. “Maybe. But if you’re some conman, you might have magic anyway. You might be using it to look like Merlin, trick us all.”

“If I was using magic, don’t you think I’d pick a better face than this one? Shrink my ears or something? And Mum’s not exactly rich, what am I going to gain from conning her?”

Will still didn’t look convinced. Gwaine, who had never seen Merlin’s magic in action, just looked confused. 

“Do the thing then,” Will demanded. 

“The thing?” Arthur wondered. 

“The magic thing. The one you did in here, on your Mum’s birthday when we were ten.”

Merlin stood up, looking suddenly very serious. “What? No, Will.”

“Do it, and I’ll believe it’s you.”

Merlin glanced worriedly at Hunith, then back at Will. “Will…”

Will folded his arms and after a moment Gwaine did the same. They both stood there glaring at him.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking me to do,” Merlin complained to Gwaine. 

Gwaine shrugged. “If it’s good enough for Will, it’s good enough for me. So prove it for us.”

“This isn’t fair,” Merlin protested. “Will… come on, something else. Anything else.”

“Dobbed me in about Simmons, didn’t you? If you’re really you then it’s payback. Do it.”

Hunith wasn’t saying anything, watching them all very seriously. Merlin looked over at her again, an apologetic expression on his face. “I can’t,” he decided.

“Hah! I knew it!” Will declared. He glared at Arthur. “You brought a clone here, upsetting Hunith after all she’s been through.”

“No, I can’t because I’m _not_ upsetting Mum. And I was just a kid,” he added to Hunith. “I never did it again.”

“Darling, I really don’t care, whatever it was. Just do it and let’s move on from this or we’ll never eat,” Hunith sighed. 

“Excuse has gone,” Will pointed out. “Do it.”

Merlin gave his mother one last despairing look, then glared at Will. “This isn’t fair,” he said again.

Will just shrugged. Merlin sighed, and then held out his hand. Arthur watched, amazed, as Merlin’s eyes momentarily glowed golden. He’d seen the same thing from Morgana, though he didn’t think her eyes had gleamed so brightly. It had been difficult to tell because she’d always covered her face with her hands, mortified at her own uniqueness. Strangeness, she’d called it. But it wasn’t strange, it was brilliant. Amazing. Like Merlin was now. 

There was a loud crash and Hunith’s handbag, which had been sitting on a chair in the corner, fell to the floor. It distracted them all for a moment, and when Arthur looked back at Merlin he saw that the young man was holding a twenty pound note and looking shamefaced.

“Oh _Merlin_ ,” Hunith sighed. “And I suppose you think I didn’t notice?”

“I’m sorry, Mum. I’d run out of money and it was your birthday.”

“Well then… I suppose I bought myself a very nice present… oh stop looking so upset. I knew at the time what you’d done. I wish you hadn’t, but really it doesn’t matter. I’ve got you back, that’s all I care about. And you,” she jabbed a finger in Will’s direction. “You knew about this, so I’m holding you responsible for leading my boy astray.”

Arthur couldn’t help laughing at that, and a moment later Merlin and Gwaine joined in. 

“That’ll teach you to try and drop me in it,” Merlin crowed. “And you have to believe me now, don’t you?”

“I suppose…” Will agreed reluctantly. 

“Oh for god’s sake…” Gwaine pushed past him and strode over to Merlin, enveloping him in a warm hug. “I don’t know how this happened, but bloody hell it’s good to see you, man. It’s so good.” 

He didn’t let go. Worse than that, as Arthur watched he saw Merlin hugging Gwaine back. He looked happy, they both did. Arthur looked away, disappointed. Of course Merlin would have people he cared about, people who had filled his life before all this. Gwaine had been the boyfriend, as far as Arthur could tell. Of course Merlin would want to pick up where they’d left off. And if Gwaine hadn’t moved on in the meantime then there was no reason he wouldn’t want to as well. They were both attractive men, it made sense. Arthur would have done the same. And it was a clone that Arthur had been expecting to purchase, something not quite human with no past, no ties. Merlin was clearly entirely human, vital and alive. It would have been wrong of Arthur to expect him to behave any other way once reunited with his loved ones.

But Arthur had thought, just for a while when they had been alone together in the car, laughing and joking at silly, random things, he’d thought there might have been something growing between them. 

He was wrong, obviously. The pair were kissing now. Well, Gwaine was kissing Merlin anyway, and even if Merlin didn’t seem quite so enthusiastic he certainly wasn’t pushing Gwaine away. Damn.

“Oh get a room!” Will grumbled. “God, talk about taking up where they left off. Yuck, Merlin. You don’t know where he’s been.”

Arthur looked away, not wanting to watch. He found Hunith looking at him, a gently sympathetic expression on her face. Catching his eye, she nodded in the direction of the kitchen work area.

“Arthur, come and help me out here.” 

It was an escape and Arthur accepted it gratefully. He had liked Hunith immediately, and this kindness just confirmed that he was correct in feeling that way. Though he didn’t want her to think that his intentions towards Merlin were anything other than a wish to help. Definitely not that he was attracted to her son. He’d _bought_ Merlin... No, that wouldn’t do at all. 

“I don’t know whether you have anything you can’t eat, allergies or anything,” Hunith continued, oblivious to Arthur’s concerns. “Please come and tell me.”

“No allergies,” he confirmed, following her across to the work area. The finished rhubarb crumble was sitting there all pale and interesting, waiting to go in the oven. Arthur could hardly wait. It had been a long time since he had tasted home-cooked food. Merlin’s dire attempts definitely didn’t count. “What do you want me to do?”

Hunith put him to work preparing vegetables. It was strange and interesting work. Arthur always bought pre-prepared vegetables so that all he had to do was pop them in the microwave. Obviously he’d _seen_ a carrot before. He’d just never sliced one up.

“Oh dear,” Hunith sighed, looking at the initial results. “Merlin’s just as bad. I suppose your mother didn’t trust you in the kitchen either?”

“Well…” Arthur paused, not wanting to make Hunith feel bad but there was no gentle way to tell the truth and she would probably not thank him if he wasn’t honest straight out. “My mother died when I was born, so never got the chance. I did have a stepmother, briefly, but she didn’t cook.” Or look after her baby daughter, or care for her young stepson. The woman had flounced out of Uther Pendragon’s life as quickly as she’d marched in. At least she had left them Morgana. For as long as Morgana had lasted, anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Hunith touched his arm sympathetically. “You poor boy. I’m sure your mother would be very proud of the way you’ve turned out. You and your father must be very close.”

Arthur didn’t have the heart to disillusion her on that score. “We work together,” he answered noncommittally. He glanced across at Merlin and Gwaine. They’d stopped kissing, although Gwaine was still standing far too close for Arthur’s liking. Whatever they were talking about was being whispered, Will included in the discussion. All three men looked very serious. Arthur had no idea what they might be talking about, but Will kept shooting him worried looks. At least it wasn’t anger any more.

“I don’t think Merlin’s friends like me much,” Arthur sighed. 

“This is a shock for us all. They’ll come around.”

“He _bought_ you?” Gwaine exclaimed loudly and Arthur winced even though he’d known it would be coming. “Seriously?” Naturally that earned Arthur a fierce glare from both Gwaine and Will. “So what, does he own you now?”

Arthur knew he was meant to hear because it had gone way past Gwaine’s initial exclamation of shock. “Technically yes,” he called across to them. “But obviously not as I purchased a clone and Merlin clearly isn’t one. So no. I do not _own_ Merlin, as you put it.” 

That wasn’t enough for Will, but then Arthur judged that Will was probably the sort of person for whom nothing anyone did would ever be enough and who would always keep on pushing.

“So what did you buy this clone for then, Arthur?” Will asked. “I mean, if you didn’t know you were getting an actual person, what were you going to do with the clone?” He’d folded his arms across his chest, obviously trying to look intimidating. 

Arthur had grown up with Uther Pendragon and there was absolutely nothing that Will could have done that would make him a fraction as intimidating as that. And besides, just because Arthur might have picked Merlin out because he found Merlin attractive, that didn’t mean anything.

“I work for my father’s robotics company. Obviously I wanted to study a clone and that’s why I made the purchase. Merlin can confirm, if you like, that while I still believed him to be an artificial life form I took blood samples…”

“Painful, agonising samples!” Merlin put in, but he was laughing. “Torture!”

“It was a tiny little prick!” Arthur retorted.

“Well there’s a lot of that about,” Will growled. “Did he hurt you, Merlin?”

Merlin shook his head, backpedalling immediately. “No, no, Arthur’s right, it was a tiny sample. And he gave me a private room to sleep in. Arthur was pretty fair even before he realised what I was, and once he found out the truth… well, he’s been brilliant. So stop giving him a hard time.

Will grunted, still not looking happy at the idea. “You’re not a lab rat,” he complained.

“Will dear, I think you’re getting angry at the wrong person,” Hunith put in gently. “Arthur’s done nothing wrong. Quite the opposite. He’s brought my boy home to me.”

“Something we couldn’t do,” Gwaine agreed. He looked so full of regret that for a few moments Arthur felt sorry for him. But then Merlin pulled Gwaine into a warm embrace again, and any sympathy Arthur might have felt immediately vanished. He wasn’t particularly proud of the emotion that replaced it.

“So what happens now?” Will asked. He was still watching Arthur suspiciously. “Do we unregister Merlin’s death? What rights does he have? I mean, you’re officially dead mate. What, are you going to live here with your mum in secret for the rest of your life?”

Arthur glanced worriedly at Hunith, but she appeared calm and resigned.

“I’m guessing not,” she said. “Arthur, you said you both have to go back in the morning. I suppose I won’t have long with my boy this time. But will he be able to come home? What’s going to happen to him?”

Arthur would have rather sat down and discussed it quietly over dinner. But there was no easy way to say it so he just came out with the truth.

“I don’t know. And we need to keep the fact Merlin’s alive quiet for now. Du Bois might try… well, they might try anything. So don’t do any social media announcements just yet,” he addressed that last part to Will in particular. Will looked the type to have every social media type going. “Think you can manage that?”

“I’m not stupid,” Will snapped. “Course I won’t say anything.”

“Me neither,” Gwaine added. 

“It’s not forever,” Merlin assured them.

“Hunith,” Arthur continued, “we were hoping that you would come back with us while we try to sort all this out. Just for a short time to act as a witness, confirm that this is your son. It’s going to be difficult to prove. My father… well, he wants to close a rival company down. I’ll be honest with you, that’s more his motivation than anything else.”

“Businessmen,” Hunith sighed. “What about you, Arthur? What do you want?”

That was easy to answer. “I want to stop this ever happening to anyone else. And I want Merlin to be able to live his life however he chooses.”

“That’s what we all want,” Will put in. “Merlin back.”

“Not while this can still be done to others,” Merlin told him. “That’s the important thing. I don’t care what it takes. I could never sleep easy knowing that it was still happening to anyone else. What they did… no. So I’m up for whatever Mr Pendragon needs.”

Arthur nodded. What had been done to Merlin was horrendous and Arthur was just as determined as Merlin was to stop it ever happening again. “My father wants to bring a case in against Du Bois, shut them down, stop this happening to anyone else. And to make them turn their research over to medical science so that it can be used for good. Perhaps you could just come and talk to him, Hunith? See what’s involved before you commit to anything?”

Hunith didn’t even hesitate. “Of course I will. Though I’ll need to make some calls, put Aithusa in a kennel, find someone to look after the house…”

“I’ll do that,” Will offered.

“You’re off to Cardiff next week,” Gwaine pointed out. “No, I can do it.”

“I’m an old family friend!” Will exclaimed. “Much more trusted than you! I should do it! Well, I can do it this week anyway, and Mum can check in after that. If I house-sit there’s no need to put Aithusa anywhere, and then Gwaine can come over and walk him when I’m gone. Nobody to ask where you’re off to.”

“Or you could just bring him with you,” Arthur offered. “You can stay with me. That way you won’t need to be parted from Merlin. We’re allowed small pets as long as they’re kept under control. And there’s a park across the street.”

“Got a big posh place in the city I suppose,” Will grumbled.

“Yes, I do. Pendragon Robotics is my father’s company and even with all the competition from Du Bois we’re still making a good profit. And as one of his senior scientists I do earn a good salary.”

“His flat’s massive,” Merlin confirmed. “Huge.”

Will stuck his chin out sulkily. “Wish my dad was loaded.”

Arthur didn’t bother repeating that he had a salary and earned it. He worked hard for that money. And the deposit on the flat had come from an inheritance left to him by his mother when he turned 21. Yes, he was fortunate financially. But he would much rather have grown up with his mother there at his side.

Instead he looked to Hunith, pointedly changing the subject. “Would you like me to help with anything else?”

Hunith smiled at him. “That’s very kind of you. Perhaps set the table?”

Arthur supposed he wouldn’t be able to get that very wrong anyway.

\---

Being back home felt good, of that there had never been any doubt.

And yet, as Merlin lay alone in his own bed wide awake and staring up at the ceiling, he was aware that it didn’t feel the same. There was something off about it all, as if he no longer quite belonged there. 

It had been six months since he’d last lain in that bed. It didn’t feel like six months, it felt like an eternity. Not that he had been conscious for all of that time, there were large chunks of time where he either didn’t remember or where…

No, he was going to go with the fact that he didn’t remember. Not with the whole being dead thing because that was just too horrible to contemplate. If he even started to think about the river that night, about going under and not being able to breathe he would start gasping deep fast panicked breaths. And his heartbeat would race and there was no way he was ever going to get to sleep if he didn’t push the memory away. 

There were other memories too. Drowning had been a horrible accident, but what came after was worse. The inhumanity of those scientists, the cold, cruel way they had behaved towards him…

Merlin felt like a different person from the one who had last slept in that bed. He had been so young, so full of plans for the future. Now all his plans were shattered and his only chance of a real future would be if Arthur managed to help him. But he had no real idea how Arthur was going to achieve that, and he suspected that Arthur didn’t either. Arthur’s father had plans, but they seemed to be geared more towards beating the opposition than to helping Merlin. And the possibility of being interviewed by Geoffrey Monmouth on TV was more than a little bit terrifying, no matter how much it might help their cause. That was something he’d not yet mentioned to his mother. She’d had enough of a shock for one day.

It had been good to see Will and Gwaine again, there was no question of that. But Gwaine had seemed so attractive and desirable six months ago. Now he felt more like an old friend. The physical attraction had gone there as well, even though the man was as handsome as ever. And he’d been so brave, jumping into the cold river after Merlin, trying to save him. Gwaine clearly wanted to pick up where they’d left off. But they’d barely had one date. It wasn’t as if Merlin was his boyfriend or anything. Perhaps Gwaine would be able to move on now that Merlin had turned up alive? Merlin thought that there had probably been a feeling of guilt, even though Gwaine had done everything he could to rescue him. It was only natural to wonder if there could have been something more, something that would have made a difference.

Nothing would have made a difference, Merlin knew that. It had been his own fault for being so stupid. Even Gwaine, over-confident Gwaine had told him to get down off the bridge, not to do it. And hadn’t there been something about a friend at uni who had gone the same way? Merlin shuddered at the realisation that Gwaine had gone through the horrific experience of losing someone twice the same way. It made it doubly difficult not to agree to go back into a relationship with him. And yet it wouldn’t be fair to do so. Merlin didn’t know what his future was going to bring, or whether he would even be allowed to keep living once the truth was out there. Kinder to keep his distance. Especially as his body wasn’t reacting to either Gwaine or Arthur any more.

It was starting to become a worry. Two of the best-looking men he’d ever seen and there was just nothing. Even when Gwaine had kissed him. No reaction. He tried masturbating, but couldn’t persuade his normally over-eager dick to do more than just lie there, flaccid and useless.

Merlin bit his lip, trying not to start crying again. It was just the clone process, like the French and the driving and the cooking and everything. Whatever they’d done to him would go away. Everything else was fading and this would too. Clones were used for sex. Du Bois wouldn’t have taken that away from him. They wouldn’t.

He rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable, but it didn’t help. The previous night, at Arthur’s flat, he hadn’t got much sleep either. There had been the mix of fear and hope blending together at what the new day would bring. And it had been an eventful one, meeting Gaius and Arthur’s father – one a more pleasant experience than the other. Then coming home and finally seeing his mother and friends again.

Merlin thought he probably should be able to sleep well, back in his own bed, but with everything going on in his head it wasn’t happening. Eventually he got up and headed downstairs to the kitchen diner, creeping quietly through the small living room where Arthur was sleeping on the sofa bed. Probably not what he was used to but Merlin could hear light snores indicating that Arthur was managing to slum it just fine. Carefully Merlin closed the kitchen door behind him before turning on the light and starting to make himself a warm milk drink. Perhaps it was a myth that it would help him sleep, but he was ready to try anything. If they were heading back to Camelot city the next day would be busy too and he wanted a proper night’s rest. Apart from anything else, Uther would be expecting him to recount everything that had happened to him. Merlin really needed a clear head for that. 

On the stove, the milk started to rise up in the pan and Merlin dove to turn the heat down. He swore as the milk bubbled over the rim and streamed out and over the hob. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence in that kitchen when Merlin was making any attempt to use the stove. Already he could smell the faint odour of burnt milk. 

“What are you doing?”

Arthur’s voice behind him startled Merlin and he almost knocked the pan off the hob. It was saved only by his magic instinctively reaching out to steady it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Merlin explained. He turned to look at Arthur then wished he hadn’t because the man was standing there shirtless and bedheaded and really far too unfairly attractive. “I tried to be quiet. I shut the door.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You’re not very stealthy. When you started rattling the pots and pans around I thought your poor mother had burglars!”

“Just wanted a drink. I couldn’t sleep.”

Arthur’s expression immediately changed from faintly mocking to kindly concern. “Bad dreams?”

Merlin shrugged, trying not to show just how badly he was affected. “It’s just a lot to process. So much has happened in so short a time.”

Arthur regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, looking at his face as if he were searching for something. Finally he spoke. “My sister could never sleep for long. She was always tired, never fully rested. It was her magic, it gave her visions and she couldn’t control them, especially when she was asleep. I could never really help her but sometimes… sometimes she said talking helped. Just a bit. Not enough, obviously…”

Merlin thought that Arthur was probably blaming himself in some way for what had happened to his sister. It certainly seemed to play on his mind. And it wasn’t a dissimilar situation. Merlin would close his eyes and although it wasn’t visions that he saw, it was memories. Ones he couldn’t shake.

“My magic isn’t like that,” he offered. “I’m not a seer.”

Arthur nodded. “I know. But it’s the middle of the night and you’re down here in the kitchen not able to sleep.”

“So are you.”

“Touché!” Arthur gave a wry smile. “Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it then you can make me one of those… what is it you’re making?”

“Warm milk.”

“Really? Are you two years old? Ugh… wait a minute, that’s a tin of hot chocolate on the side there!” Arthur grabbed it and held it up triumphantly. “I’ll have one of these.”

“Doesn’t help you sleep,” Merlin warned, though it was there because he’d been about to put a few spoonfuls in his own drink. Arthur was right about the milk on its own being a bit bland. 

“I’ll take my chances,” Arthur told him. “Can’t sleep anyway because there was an intruder sneaking through the living room. Milk thief, as it turns out. What if your mother wanted that for breakfast?”

“We have a milkman.”

“Of course you do! We’re out in the country… does he bring it along the lane on a pony and cart from the local farm with a bit of straw between his teeth? Or does the cow come along and decant straight into the bottle?”

Obviously Arthur thought that he was very funny. 

“You’ve never seen a cow being milked, have you?”

Arthur shrugged, which was answer enough. He didn’t stop looking pleased with himself though.

“We order online, for your information. It’s not just the supermarkets that have websites. If Mum hasn’t ordered enough we can get some more. Aithusa always needs a walk. I’ll run to the village shop in the morning if Mum’s short.”

The smile faded from Arthur’s face. “Merlin, you need to remember that you can’t do things like that. Everyone here thinks you’re dead and we have to try to keep it that way for now.”

Merlin knew that. He really did. But the temptation to go for a walk down the old familiar routes was strong. He didn’t want to admit it but part of him wanted to go back to the river to see if the bridge was still there, to look down at the water where he’d died. If he admitted that to Arthur it would make him sound like a sick freak.

“Okay,” he said. “I could call Will or Gwaine, they’d bring some over.”

Arthur clearly didn’t like one or both of them because his expression definitely clouded over at that suggestion. “There’s no need to bother them again. I can drive to the village if needed,” he offered. 

Gwaine and Will had left together soon after dinner had finished. Dinner had been strange with Will, Gwaine and Arthur all being very polite to each other. Merlin had supposed at the time that Will and Gwaine had immediately headed off to talk privately rather than go home. It was understandable but hadn’t been the best feeling in the world. He hadn’t realised that Arthur felt quite so strongly about them. Perhaps he felt talked about as well.

“They’re good guys when you get to know them,” Merlin offered.

“They’re your friends, not mine,” Arthur replied. “Don’t worry about it, Merlin. They were never going to like me. I _bought_ you. I mean, it makes me feel ill to think of it. I can’t imagine what they must be thinking.”

Arthur wasn’t going to get over that any time soon, Merlin realised. He bit his lip, not sure what to say. It didn’t matter how many times Merlin told him that he’d saved Merlin from god knows what kind of horrible fate. Arthur had a deeply honourable nature (and that wasn’t attractive at all, no…) and Merlin could only imagine how much he was beating himself up about actually _purchasing_ a human being.

“You saved me, Arthur,” Merlin said finally. “That’s all that matters. You _are_ a good person.”

Arthur didn’t look convinced. “This is from the same person who says they’re not having bad dreams?”

Merlin ducked his head, pretending that the hot chocolate needed his careful attention. “I didn’t say that. But it’s not like your sister, Arthur. It’s not my magic that’s causing them.”

“It’s what happened to you,” Arthur correctly guessed. “Of course it is. You know I’m right here, if you need to talk? Morgana used to tell me I was a good listener when I wanted to be. I was never sure if it was a compliment or an insult!”

Merlin nodded, forcing a smile. “She sounds as if she was a smart lady. I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too.” Arthur took the mug of hot chocolate Merlin offered him. “So…”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Merlin admitted. “I know I have to, I know I have to go over everything to expose Du Bois for what they’re doing. But right now I can’t sleep and I just want to shut everything out. I’d watch a film or something but of course Mum cleared out my things and the laptop’s gone.”

“There’s the TV in the living room.”

“I’ve already disturbed your sleep enough.”

Arthur shook his head. “It’s fine. Find something to watch. I’ll sit with you. That used to work for Morgana, sometimes. You wouldn’t believe the things she used to make me sit through. I’m hoping you’ve got more taste.”

“Yeah, I like a good romcom with girl chat and shopping,” Merlin teased, then laughed when he saw Arthur’s face. “Or maybe we’ll find a superhero movie? You like spandex?”

The couch was currently Arthur’s bed, but easy enough to transform back. Soon enough Merlin found himself sitting with his feet up on the coffee table, Arthur companionably close and warm at his side. The latest re-imagining of Batman was brooding his way across the screen. It felt safe and comfortable, sitting there with Arthur. Finally Merlin began to relax.

And his eyes started to close.

\---


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, Hunith was a little surprised to find Merlin and Arthur both asleep on the couch. They looked as if they’d been there most of the night. Arthur was on his side, his head cushioned on the arm of the sofa. Merlin was lying almost on top of him, his head resting on Arthur’s chest. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, but she did think the pair of them looked good together. Or they would if Arthur didn’t have his mouth open in a rather unattractive snore, and her son wasn’t drooling on Arthur’s shirt. 

Nothing was ever quite as pretty as the movies. But Arthur seemed to be a really good, decent sort. And he definitely liked her Merlin. 

Her Merlin, who she’d thought she’d lost. It was still such a miracle to see him there. She’d cried herself to sleep the previous night, half with joy at getting him back, half with desperate horror at what had happened to him. If Arthur could make him happy then she would do all she could to help.

“Come on, Aithusa,” she whispered to the little dog that she’d brought down with her. “You need to go outside, let’s not disturb them.”

Dogs often understood the words ‘go outside’ to be a cause for great excitement and barking. Unfortunately Aithusa was no exception. 

“Sorry boys,” Hunith called, heading for the kitchen and the back door. “Won’t be long, just taking Aithusa out.”

She could hear the good-natured grumbling behind her as she went.

“I’m going to need physio after this. My neck…”

“What about mine? You’re not as comfortable as you look!”

“Yes, I’m not a pillow, _Mer-_ lin. Wait… what do you mean? Comfortable?”

“Soft… pillowy…”

“Are you saying I’m fat… wait, did you _drool_ on me? Ugh! _Merlin!_ ”

Hunith smiled, and closed the door behind her.

\---

Will and Gwaine both turned up to see them off.

Arthur wasn’t particularly pleased to see either of them, and thought the feeling was probably mutual. But he knew Merlin would be glad they were there so he made himself useful helping Hunith pack her car. He’d been perfectly happy to drive both her and the dog to Camelot, but Hunith had insisted she could drive herself. Apparently there was an elderly aunt living on the outskirts of the city that she wanted to visit. And anyway, it would be easier when she needed to get home.

Arthur wasn’t stupid. He knew it was an excuse to have her car there in case she needed to get Merlin out of there in a hurry. He would have done exactly the same thing in her position.

Finally they were all ready to go, and there only remained the goodbyes.

“When’re you going to come back again?” Will asked.

“I don’t know,” Merlin told him. He glanced at Arthur, who shrugged helplessly because he didn’t know either.

“I’m moving to Cardiff next week,” Will reminded him. “But I could still come home at weekends or for the evening, just call me. It’s not that far.”

Will was Merlin’s best friend, Arthur reminded himself. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to at least attempt to get him on side. That Gwaine could forget it though! 

“You could come and visit if you like,” he offered, trying not to make it sound too reluctant. “I mean, if this takes a long time and Merlin’s stuck in Camelot.”

Will eyed him warily, as if waiting for the catch. When none came he nodded almost politely. It probably passed for polite from Will anyway.

“Thanks.”

Arthur shrugged, wishing they could leave immediately. He glanced at his watch, then at Merlin. 

“We should go, I’d like to be back in Camelot before the evening traffic starts.”

“Good point,” Hunith probably didn’t fancy rush hour in Camelot either, especially as she wasn’t used to driving in the city. ‘Hour’ was an understatement. Traffic was never good but from about four onwards it got horrendous. “Will, darling, good luck in your new job and thank you for looking after the house for me.” She hugged Will, then turned to Gwaine. “Gwaine, I hope all this has given you some closure. It really wasn’t your fault, and Merlin’s okay.” She hugged Gwaine as well. “I’ll see you when I’m back.”

Gwaine nodded. “Look forward to it. You behave down there in the big smoke, lady!”

Hunith laughed, then turned away, calling to Aithusa, ready to go.

Merlin was talking quietly to Will, who did look a bit happier since Arthur’s invitation. Arthur just caught the end of it.

“… and message me every day to see how it’s going.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Merlin pointed out. “I don’t have anything.”

“We’ll get you one,” Arthur interrupted. “It’ll be okay. But we do need to go. Good luck with that job, Will. Here, put your number in mine, Merlin can call you from there until he’s set up.”

“He can use Hunith’s,” Gwaine pointed out, but Will had already grabbed Arthur’s phone and was setting himself up as a contact. “Ah, okay. Don’t suppose you want me putting my number in there, do you.” It clearly wasn’t a question.

“Of course you can,” Arthur managed. He absolutely did not say it through gritted teeth. “Merlin needs his friends.”

“Friends,” Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “Hmm.” 

“I’ll put you in,” Will told him. “Remind me of the number…”

Gwaine reeled it off, then turned to Merlin. “You know, I could go back to uni in Camelot if you stay there. There’s nothing keeping me here.”

_You went on one date!_ Arthur wanted to say, but he kept quiet. He knew Merlin wouldn’t thank him for pointing that out. Instead he drummed his fingers absently against the side of the car, waiting. 

“I don’t know what I’ll be doing,” Merlin admitted. “Don’t put your life on hold for me, Gwaine. But do go back to Uni, finish your studies. You’re brilliant, you’ve got your whole life out in front of you.”

“I’m not sure studying’s for me,” Gwaine told him. “They’ll take a bit of persuading to have me back. Still, I’m persuasive. Usually,” he flicked back his hair and treated Merlin to a dazzling smile. He was bloody gorgeous. Arthur tried not to hate him. “I’ll miss you. Make sure you keep in touch.”

“Of course,” Merlin went to hug him. Gwaine had other ideas. He leaned in for a kiss, but this time Merlin put a hand firmly on Gwaine’s chest, keeping him at a distance. The meaning was quite clear.

Gwaine gave a small, rather sad smile, shaking his head. “Lost you a second time, haven’t I Merlin?” he said. “I think this might be the universe telling me you and I are only ever going to be friends.”

“You haven’t lost me, Gwaine,” Merlin tried to explain. “It’s just that right now I have no idea what’s going on in my life and it wouldn’t be fair to start up a relationship. You deserve better than someone who doesn’t even legally exist.”

“Thought Poshface was going to fix that for you?” Gwaine grumbled. Arthur didn’t miss the resentful look when Gwaine glanced over at him, and he didn’t think Merlin had either. “Or will that only be to suit him?”

“Leave it,” Will advised. “Come on, Gwaine, don’t let Merlin leave on bad terms.”

“Yeah, because you’re getting a posh holiday in his posh flat you’re all friends now,” Gwaine grumbled. “But yeah, you’re right. C’mere.”

Arthur watched as Merlin hugged both his friends goodbye. He thought Merlin lingered longer with Will, and resigned himself to the fact that eventually he was probably going to get Will as a houseguest. Perhaps just for a weekend? Surely his new job wouldn’t let him have much time off? 

And then Merlin was turning away, wiping at his eyes and not looking at Arthur. As if Arthur would tease him about that.

“Time to go,” was all Arthur said.

And so they went.

\---

“Goodness me!”

Hunith stood in the entrance hall of Arthur’s flat, looking around. She had Aithusa wriggling in her arms, but was keeping a firm grip on him. 

“Told you it was posh, Mum,” Merlin said cheerfully, brushing past her with her cases. “Mum’s going in my room, right Arthur?”

“Absolutely,” Arthur agreed. “You can sleep on the sofabed, Merlin. Hunith, your room’s just here.” He followed Merlin into the guest bedroom, putting the bags he was carrying down on the bed.

Hunith got as far as the doorway. “Goodness me!” she said again. “It’s better than the poshest hotel I’ve ever been in!”

Perhaps it was a bit of an upgrade from her country cottage. But Arthur had loved the warm homeliness of that place, something that was sadly lacking from his flat. Or at least it had been. Having Hunith and Merlin there already made the place feel less sterile.

“There’s an en-suite in your room,” Arthur pointed out. “That will be just for you. Merlin can use the main bathroom.”

“Arthur has three showers,” Merlin pointed out sarcastically. “Because you need that, living alone. There’s an en-suite off _his_ bedroom as well.”

“Don’t be rude, Merlin,” Hunith said quickly. 

“Yes, don’t be rude, Merlin,” Arthur agreed, grinning at Merlin. “Or no more chocolate digestives for you!”

Merlin muttered something under his breath that might have been ‘prat’, Arthur wasn’t sure. Hunith smacked him on the arm for it, anyway.

“Arthur, your home is lovely, thank you for letting me stay here,” she said. “But I’m worried about Aithusa. He’ll shed hair everywhere, and what if he scratches the furniture? We should put him in a kennel.”

Arthur shrugged. Everything in his flat had been picked out by an interior designer because Arthur hadn’t had time to bother with furnishing it himself. It was all functional and tidy, and meant nothing to him. He realised from Hunith’s reaction to the place that telling her this wouldn’t be helpful, it would probably just make her feel even more uncomfortable because it was doubtful that she could afford a personal shopper or to be so careless with her money. So he went for a lie that he hoped she would accept.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a puppy when work eases up. They’ll probably scratch everything to pieces and wee all over the floor. Aithusa’s well-trained, I don’t mind a few marks. It makes the place looked lived in.”

And really, that last comment wasn’t actually a lie.

Hunith still looked worried and didn’t put Aithusa down, so Arthur carefully took the little dog out of her arms and set him down on the floor. Aithusa immediately headed off exploring, sniffing his way around the place. 

“You have a lovely home, Arthur,” Hunith sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I feel embarrassed that we made you sleep on the sofa last night. It must have been so different from what you’re used to.”

“It felt good to be in a family home,” Arthur told her truthfully. “I liked your home far better than I like mine.”

“Mmm, though Arthur has better biscuits,” Merlin added. “And you should try them, Mum. I’ll make us some tea.”

“No, I’ll make it,” Arthur offered, knowing perfectly well that the biscuits they’d picked up at the service station on the way home would be half gone if he left Merlin alone in the kitchen with them. “There might still be a few biscuits left for the rest of us if I do it!”

Merlin pouted at him but didn’t deny it. Arthur smirked at him, then realised that Hunith was watching them both with a warm smile on her face. 

“You help your mother settle in,” Arthur advised, then made a quick escape into the kitchen. He did not want Merlin’s mother thinking that the man who bought her son was in any way attracted to him. That was just too awkward. 

As Arthur opened up the cupboards and hunted down some mugs it occurred to him that he seemed to be spending more time in his own kitchen since Merlin’s arrival than he ever had before. He could hear Merlin and Hunith talking quietly together and was sure his own name was mentioned a few times. He envied Merlin the closeness that he and Hunith shared. His own parent was nothing like that. Arthur couldn’t recall Uther ever sitting down with him and having a two-way conversation. It was always Uther telling Arthur what he should be doing, or what Arthur was already doing incorrectly. 

As he waited for the kettle to boil, Arthur started to go through his phone messages. There were a few from his assistant Elyan about the fault in the Pen-291 range that Arthur had been testing, and a couple from Gaius with more questions for Merlin that he wanted passing on. And there was one from his father – short and to the point.

“Are you back yet?”

Reluctantly Arthur sent a single word reply. Almost immediately his phone rang and the caller ID showed that it was Uther. Arthur was tempted not to answer, but then Uther would probably just come straight over, which would be worse. 

“Hello Father.”

“Arthur, where are you?”

“At home. We just got in.”

The kettle boiled at that point and Arthur started to make the tea, one-handed. 

“Is the mother with you? Did you persuade her?”

“Yes, she’s here,” Arthur glanced towards the kitchen door, hoping that Merlin and Hunith couldn’t hear him. “She’s a really nice lady and she’s had quite a shock. We should leave this for a few days.”

“Nonsense! The longer we wait the greater the chance of Du Bois realising we’re onto them. No, I’m coming straight over. Geoffrey and that reporter of his are coming with me.”

“No, don’t…” Arthur started to say, but Uther wasn’t listening.

“I’ll see you shortly,” Uther told him.

“Wait…” Arthur began, but Uther had already ended the call. Nothing had changed. 

There was nothing to be done but to finish making the tea and then to take it as an offering when he broke the bad news. Perhaps Uther wouldn’t be too forceful and demanding.

Arthur didn’t hold out a great deal of hope.

\---

Mr Pendragon Snr was an intimidating man.

Before they had met, Merlin had expected to like him. He’d thought that he would be a similar sort of person to Arthur. But Uther couldn’t have been more different.

It wasn’t that he was a bad person, exactly. He just lacked any warmth and genuine compassion. Everything seemed to be about the business. It was also very puzzling how unimpressed with his own son he seemed to be. Merlin couldn’t see how _anyone_ could fail to be impressed with Arthur.

“You took your time,” Merlin heard Uther say to Arthur as he strode into the flat. It was probably supposed to be quiet, for Arthur’s ears only. But Uther had the sort of voice that carried, used to being heard. Thankfully Hunith was in her room, still unpacking, and hadn’t heard.

“Mum,” Merlin called to her. “Mr Pendragon’s arrived.”

Normally people used the intercom to announce their arrival, giving the residents a chance to decide whether or not they were in. If that had happened in this case then Merlin definitely hadn’t heard it. And he supposed Uther would simply sweep past any security, having got himself clearance years ago. It had to be awkward for Arthur, never knowing when his father was going to turn up. What if he was with a partner? 

In Ealdor, even though they lived in the same house, Hunith had always respected Merlin’s privacy. Until that moment Merlin hadn’t appreciated the value of a parent who bothered to knock.

Hunith appeared in the doorway of her room, smiling nervously. And it might have been okay, except Aithusa had completed his exploration of the flat and was always pleased to welcome new friends. Noisily. 

With an enthusiastic and happy bark, Aithusa propelled himself across the living room in a rush of white fur, heading straight for Uther Pendragon.

Uther did not look as if he was likely to be a dog lover. Or, if he was, it would probably be huge, lethal canines who slobbered blood and ate small children for dinner.

Aithusa was none of those things. He landed at Uther’s feet and proceeded to jump up at him, barking and wagging his tiny tail joyfully.

“Arthur,” Uther asked in a highly disapproving tone. “Why is there a _dog_ in your apartment?”

“Aithusa, no!” Hunith cried, looking utterly mortified. “Come back here you naughty pup! Oh, I am so sorry.” She rushed over and scooped Aithusa up. “He’s over-excited.”

“So I see,” Uther replied, eyeing Aithusa suspiciously. 

The little dog wriggled in Hunith’s arms, especially as other people had followed Uther into the flat. There was a very tall, red-haired man that Merlin thought he recognised from somewhere, and an older gentleman who was wearing the collar of his coat turned up and a panama hat tipped low at the front, hiding his face. It was a bit ridiculously over-secretive, Merlin thought. Who did he think he was? 

And then he removed his hat.

“Oh my goodness!” Hunith gasped, and Aithusa took advantage of her distraction to make a break for freedom.

It was Geoffrey Monmouth, possibly the most famous TV presenter in all Albion. His weekly current events show, _The Monmouth Report_ , had been going for years. Merlin had forgotten that Uther had mentioned it would be Monmouth reporting on them. He certainly hadn’t expected to see the man turn up at Arthur’s flat. 

“What a charming little fellow,” Geoffrey commented, beaming down at Aithusa fondly for a moment then reaching down to pet him. “Just like Beano, isn’t he Leon?”

Merlin placed the red-haired man then. It was Leon Knight, the investigative journalist who was the up and coming star of Monmouth’s show. Leon was the one who was sent out and about, usually on a sensational and sometimes quite dangerous undercover story. He could see that his mother had recognised Leon too. Belatedly he remembered that she had a bit of a crush. But then that was true of some bloke or other on practically every show she watched, so nothing notable. Although none of the others had ever presented themselves to her in the flesh.

“Very like!” Leon grinned, picking Aithusa up, then both he and Geoffrey proceeded to make a huge fuss of the spoilt little dog. “Oh you’re a handsome fellow aren’t you? Yes you are!”

It was probably just as well because it distracted from the fact that Hunith was gaping like a fish at the two very famous men in front of her. Uther, in contrast, was looking at them both in disgust. 

“Mum,” Merlin whispered. “Don’t you dare ask for their autographs.”

That earned him a smack on the arm, but at least it stopped the staring. “I’ll want a selfie at least!” she whispered back.

“Ah, is this your mother?” Uther was suddenly all smiles, holding out a hand to Hunith. “Charmed to meet you, Mrs Emrys. And how good of you to come all this way. I’m Uther Pendragon, Head of Pendragon Robotics.”

“Oh.” Hunith looked a little worried at that.

“And my father,” Arthur added.

Hunith’s face relaxed into a smile. “Ah, you have a wonderful son, Mr Pendragon. Arthur has been so kind, so charming.”

Merlin was itching to snark at Arthur for that, but somehow in front of his father didn’t seem to be the best time. Instead he simply raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who smirked back at him.

“Charming,” Arthur mouthed at him silently.

“Prat,” Merlin mouthed back. 

Unfortunately Uther noticed that. Merlin resigned himself to never making a good impression with Uther. He supposed that if the man hadn’t needed him for the attempt to discredit Du Bois then Merlin would never have even been given the time of day.

“Arthur,” Leon called. “When did you get a dog? He’s the spit of Geoffrey’s mutt!”

“Aithusa’s mine,” Hunith explained, blushing slightly. 

“He’s great!” Leon told her, setting Aithusa down, then holding out his hand. “I’m Leon Knight, this is Geoffrey Monmouth…”

“Oh I know,” Hunith beamed. “I watch your show every week. That story last week where you went undercover in that awful place where they were doing all the animal experiments… that was so brave! And the other week when…”

“Mum!” Merlin warned. Thankfully that stopped the gushing.

“Always good to meet a fan,” Leon smiled at her. He had a very kind, honest face. “Arthur and I have been friends for years, we were at uni together.” He turned to smile at Merlin and shook his hand too. “And you’re Merlin? Very good to meet you. If you’re up to it I want to sit down and go through everything that happened to you. We’re looking at doing a studio interview, but I want to see if I can get into Du Bois as well. I need to know as much as possible about the place before going in. And I’ll need pictures of you before the accident. Perhaps contact details of a few of your friends from back then? Some who might be willing to do a few quotes? Does anyone else know you’re back? Or perhaps…”

“Leon!” Arthur interrupted. “We’re not going anywhere. Slow down, give Merlin a chance to answer!”

“There’s a great deal of work to do, Arthur,” Geoffrey told him. “I want this on Friday night’s show. We’re going to be working flat out for that deadline. So let young Leon do his thing. Do you have somewhere that we can all sit down and go through this? Perhaps some coffee?”

Merlin supposed that it was going to be a very long few days.

\---

The questions from the two journalists went on for a very long time. By the time they left (Leon promising to come back the next day, first thing) Arthur was exhausted. He supposed that Merlin and Hunith would be absolutely shattered as far more of it had been directed at them.

Obviously Merlin had been interrogated the most, but Arthur was surprised how many questions they asked Hunith too. Leon was particularly interested in what had happened immediately after Merlin’s death. At least he had the decency to be apologetic about it.

“Some of what I’m going to ask you now is… indelicate at best,” he explained to her at the start. 

Hunith sat up a little straighter, a determined expression on her face. “I have my son back.” She reached out and took Merlin’s hand, squeezing it gently. “This is for all those who are still missing their loved ones. Ask whatever you like.” 

“Thank you. So, Hunith, were you ever contacted by Du Bois after your son’s death?”

“Not that I was aware of. At the hospital there was… Merlin was carrying a donor card. I had to agree that they could… that he could help someone else live.”

“So you gave them permission to use your son’s body?”

“Not for this! I thought I was agreeing that his healthy organs could be used in operations to help others. There was no mention of any cloning.”

“I’m glad they didn’t take any!” Merlin quipped, but it was without much humour.

“Did you hear any mention at all that he might be cloned?” Leon pressed. “This is important, there could be so many people out there who think that their loved ones were being used to help others when in fact they were used for commerce.”

Hunith frowned in concentration. “I do remember something. There was a call, someone asking about Merlin’s DNA, wanting to talk to me. It was a few days later. I closed the call almost immediately and told them to leave me alone. It was a monstrous idea. I thought at the time it was some kind of sick joke.”

“You said no,” Leon checked. “So legally there should be no way that any of Merlin’s DNA could have been used in any sort of cloning process.” He was frantically making notes, despite the fact that he was recording the whole thing. “This is exactly what we’re looking for, Hunith. No consent from the next of kin. They’re basically breaking the law. And there’s nobody else who could have given consent? Another parent?”

Hunith shook her head. “Merlin’s father isn’t in the picture. If he’s still alive then he doesn’t even know that Merlin ever existed. There’s no chance it was him. And besides, he was a decent man, he wouldn’t have done that.”

“So definitely no consent. We’re going to go with that as the main angle, the fact they had no right to go anywhere near him. And what about the body?”

“We buried him.”

“My friend Will was a pallbearer. He said the coffin was heavy, there was definitely something in there,” Merlin put in.

“That could have been anything. But easier to do the switch before that box is six feet under. So we need to visit the mortuary, talk to the staff, find out what happened.”

“Are you going undercover?” Hunith asked. “Your reports are so exciting! It’s the best part of the show!”

Arthur liked Hunith a great deal, so didn’t roll his eyes or do anything to make her feel embarrassed at the fact she was almost gushing. But he’d known Leon for a long time, and there was going to need to be a great deal of teasing about this at the first opportunity. 

Leon, for his part, just gave a pleased little smile. “Maybe,” he said, and kept on working. 

He looked a bit smug though. Probably got that all the time, Arthur realised. Arthur wondered whether he should have gone into television journalism himself. But he was a scientist, brought up on robotics, trained to join the family industry. And, if he was honest, he liked it. It was interesting. Especially now.

The interviews took hours. It had long-since gone dark by the time Leon and Geoffrey left. Merlin’s story, although Arthur had already heard it several times by then, was still just as shocking and he could see that it had left an impact on both the men.

“We’ll probably be back tomorrow,” Leon warned. “There’s a lot more I want to ask, or will be once we’ve done some digging.”

“The grave?” Merlin asked innocently.

“Possibly, but I meant digging for information.”

“We should get the coffin exhumed as soon as possible,” Geoffrey declared. “And through official routes. I don’t want Du Bois tampering with the evidence, it could ruin the story.”

Leon coughed. 

“I mean obviously we need Merlin to have his life back and the families of these other poor victims to have some closure,” Geoffrey amended. “No chance of trickery.”

Hunith frowned. “But it won’t be Merlin in there. It will be empty.”

“Not necessarily,” Leon told her gently. “There could be a body. It sounds from what Merlin has said as if there would be plenty of deaths. I was reading the small print on the contract Arthur signed. If the clone dies then the body could be returned to Du Bois for disposal.”

“Or resuscitation and re-use!” Merlin gasped. “Oh my god! You could be killed and brought back over and over!” 

Arthur moved to comfort him, but Hunith was faster, her boy in her arms almost immediately.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Arthur told Leon and Geoffrey. 

“We’ve got what we need,” Geoffrey confirmed. “Thank you for calling us in, Uther. This is going to be a sensation.”

“It’s why we do this,” Leon added. “Unearthing appalling behaviour and putting it right. Justice is going to be served here, I promise you, Merlin. You’ll get your life back. And you’ll be an amazing doctor, or whatever you decide to do.”

Arthur couldn’t help thinking that Leon’s motives for his work were considerably more decent than Geoffrey’s. He showed them out, then went back to the living room. His father was showing no sign of wanting to leave, which was a bad sign.

“Well,” Uther exclaimed, sitting back on the sofa and looking terribly pleased with himself. “That went _wonderfully_. Du Bois are finished. I can’t wait to see Agravaine’s face when this goes out.”

Another person whose motives weren’t quite as pure as they could be, Arthur realised. Still, he was used to his father’s ways.

“Can we have dinner now?” Merlin asked, pulling away from his mother. “I’m starving.”

“We could order pizza or something,” Arthur suggested. He could see Merlin’s face light up at that idea. Definitely Merlin’s favourite dish. Apart from endless chocolate biscuits, of course…

“Nonsense,” Uther waved the suggestion aside. “We should all go out. I’ll tell Gwen to sort out a reservation for us at the Ritz. We should celebrate!”

“It’s too late to do that tonight. And Merlin really shouldn’t be seen in public,” Arthur warned. “You heard what Leon said.”

Uther had been listening intently throughout Merlin’s interrogation, interrupting unhelpfully at various points. “Yes, yes, not until after the story breaks. But nobody is going to know why he’s there. Du Bois would simply think you’d brought your clone alone. People do.”

“They don’t buy them an expensive meal,” Hunith pointed out. “Mr Pendragon, you and your son have been so kind, but we should follow advice for now. “Pizza sounds wonderful, Arthur.”

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure that his father had ever eaten pizza in his life. If he had then it would probably have been in some high class pretentious restaurant and the pizza would probably have been served in tiny, artistically cut bite-sized pieces. Most likely on a silver platter. 

“Pizza it shall be,” Uther declared. “How quaint. Arthur will arrange it.”

Which meant Uther had no intention of leaving any time soon Arthur realised.

“So, Mrs Emrys,” Uther began.

“Please call me Hunith.”

“Hunith. And you must of course call me Uther.”

Arthur always felt slightly wary when his father laid on the charm, but never moreso than when it was aimed at Merlin’s warm and kind mother. “Hunith’s been through a great deal of trauma,” Arthur warned, but Uther just waved him aside.

“Of course she has. Hunith, I can’t tell you how grateful we are that you’ve agreed to help us with this. Obviously you’ll be reimbursed for your time. Have you missed work?”

“I took a few days leave. And there’s no need, Merlin’s my son. You’d do the same if it was Arthur, I’m sure.”

Arthur wasn’t so sure about that. Work always came first with Uther. Maybe, just maybe he would have done it for Morgana. 

Merlin nudged him. “Pizza? I could order it? Could be instead of me cooking for the evening?”

Arthur was a little reluctant to leave Uther alone with Hunith, but he also didn’t really want Merlin going searching through his computer unsupervised. It was one thing when he’d thought Merlin was a clone, but now he knew Merlin was anything but (and quite cheeky and likely to tease mercilessly if he stumbled across anything suitably embarrassing). No, he would just have to hope that his father didn’t get too charming. Hunith was far too nice to be one of those women that his father took up with briefly and then cast aside. Actually, with a few notable exceptions, most of those women were also worth more. 

“I’ll do it,” Arthur said, getting his phone out so that he didn’t actually have to leave the room. “Come on, you can help.” He shifted up so that Merlin could perch on the arm of his chair. It was pleasantly close, and Arthur had to remind himself yet again that Merlin was still in a vulnerable position and wasn’t someone that Arthur could even consider as a partner.

Not until all this was over, anyway. 

Merlin’s ‘help’ turned out to be picking through everything on the menu and changing his mind half a dozen times. In the meantime he’d managed to slide down and squish in beside Arthur on the armchair, leaning very close and poking at the phone constantly.

Suddenly Arthur became aware that the rest of the room had gone quiet. He looked up and saw Hunith watching them with a small, knowing smile. And his father looking deeply perturbed.

Arthur quickly took over the phone, ordered a variety and sent the order off. Merlin gazed at him with a deeply wounded look on his face. Arthur was getting used to those.

“What?”

“The picking’s the best part! And I hate anchovies.”

“I could call and ask them put clone food on that one!”

“Funny. That’s going to be your go-to joke if I don’t like food, isn’t it?”

“Obviously. I’m keeping a few packets just in case!”

It probably wasn’t all that funny, Arthur reflected, but given everything else that had happened it was something relatively inoffensive to focus on. And Merlin really was surprisingly good at putting food away considering his slender build. 

“I might bake something with it and feed it to you,” Merlin warned.

“You’d have to learn to bake first. I think I’m safe!”

“Hah!”

Uther coughed loudly. That seemed to get through to Merlin as well, who looked across at him, evidently decided that it wasn’t the most friendly of expressions that he was getting back, and quickly got up.

“Arthur, did you say I could use your phone to call Will?”

They’d forgotten to get him one that day, it had just been too hectic. Reluctantly Arthur unlocked it again and handed it over. “He’s in the contacts. I’ll sort out a phone for you in the morning.”

Hunith also got up. “You’ve been so kind, Arthur. I’ll just freshen up before dinner. It was lovely to meet you, Uther.”

Uther, ever the appearance of being a gentleman, stood up too. “Charmed, Hunith. I look forward to seeing you again.”

It was Arthur’s turn to look perturbed, though he saved any comments until Hunith had gone to her room and closed the door. At least it sounded as if Uther were about to leave.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Uther raised an eyebrow. “I could say likewise. It won’t do to get involved with that boy, Arthur. And as for the mother, she’s very pleasant company but I would never be so unprofessional.”

That wasn’t true. Arthur remembered Morgana’s mother who had been married to a friend of Uther’s, and also there was that Catrina woman who he’d got involved with and ruined a good business deal. 

“Also she has that awful yappy creature for a pet.”

Ah. That _would_ stop Uther in his tracks. He hated cats and small dogs. Arthur silently gave thanks for Aithusa once again. 

“Where is the wretched thing now?” Uther continued, looking around.

“Asleep somewhere after all the fuss he was getting.” Arthur shrugged. “Unless Geoffrey and Leon have kidnapped him. They really liked him.”

Uther made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat but didn’t comment further on the dog.

“Arthur, a word,” was all he said instead, then strode over to Arthur’s bedroom. Evidently Arthur was expected to follow. He could imagine what was coming. A long, private lecture about the unsuitability of pets in general and this pet in particular, probably with a few comments about Merlin thrown in. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if Merlin was the king of Albion, he would still have been unsuitable in Uther’s eyes due to being a man. Not that Uther would ever come out and say that. No, there would be some other way of making it known.

Reluctantly Arthur followed.

“Close the door,” Uther instructed. He waited for a moment until Arthur had obeyed, and then started talking. “This Merlin boy…”

“There’s nothing going on!” Arthur immediately told him. 

“I’m relieved to hear it, but kindly let me finish, Arthur. Merlin has magic, and that appears to be how he survived this terrible ordeal.”

Of course, Uther didn’t like magic any more than he liked homosexuality. Possibly he liked it even less. Arthur groaned inwardly and prepared himself for the anti-magic diatribe to come. 

It didn’t come.

“Your sister had magic. Although cloning her would appear to have been a mistake I would like to be absolutely sure that the same thing hasn’t happened. I know you visit sometimes. Have you ever seen the slightest sign that she might be confused or unhappy? That the clone… that it isn’t actually a clone at all?”

Uther actually looked quite concerned. It manifested itself into a sort of frown, but still it was an unusual expression for him. And admitting that he might have made a mistake was almost unheard of.

“I wondered the same thing. I’ve never noticed anything. She looks happy enough. But then I’ve never spoken to her since you sent her back. The man who bought her appears to be a decent person.”

“He’ll have bought the model for sex, Arthur. Obviously. Just as you would have bought yours. And please,” he held up a hand to stop the protest Arthur was about to make, “I don’t want to hear about your reasons for that. It’s Morgana I am concerned about. I would like to see for myself. Tomorrow we will visit her. Geoffrey and Leon may well be back with more questions for Merlin. And if they aren’t then it will be good for Hunith to have a little time alone with her son. It’s best if we involve as few people as possible at this stage, so you will drive. Collect me at 11.”

“We can’t just turn up unannounced.”

Uther waved Arthur’s concerns aside. “Gwen will arrange it with the owner. Call her when that boy gives you your phone back and tell her to sort it out.”

“In the morning, it’s too late to call her now. And for her to call the… person who purchased Morgana’s clone.” Arthur couldn’t quite bring himself to say owner.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Uther snapped. “Honestly, Arthur, you’ll run Pendragon Robotics one day. I shudder to think what a mess you’ll make of it. Gwen is an employee!”

“A good one and we should concentrate on retaining her!”

Uther just shook his head. “She knows her job. Anyway, I must go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Arthur. 11am sharp.”

And with that he left. Arthur was definitely not looking forward to the morning.

\---


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a little after 11 when Arthur had driven up outside his father’s house and so of course there were pointed comments about the importance of punctuality. 

Leon had come up with more questions overnight, so Arthur had left him at the flat with Hunith and Merlin. They were safe enough with him, even Hunith had lost her nervousness around him and seemed quite comfortable chatting to him now. Some of Geoffrey’s people were trying to get Merlin’s coffin exhumed but had been running into difficulties even with Hunith’s permission. It was going to take some time, though Leon had been trying to find ways to push it through faster. The show would certainly be broadcast before they’d managed it, unless they put it on a week or so later. Discussing that with Leon had delayed Arthur, but Uther didn’t want to hear about it. All he was interested in was the Morgana clone.

And the fact that Arthur’s driving needed some improvement. Uther had several things to say about that.

The quiet suburb where Morgana’s clone lived looked pleasant enough, all neat gardens and nicely painted fences. A postcard perfect picture of suburbia. 

Arthur parked outside the house. He moved to open the car door to get out, then noticed that his father was just staring at the place, not moving. 

“Are we going in?” Arthur asked. 

“Do you think it could be her?” Uther wondered. “And if it is, what have we subjected her to? We should have kept the clone with us, Arthur, no matter what.”

Arthur was fairly sure it wasn’t Morgana. She’d definitely seen him once or twice when he’d gone to check up on her. But a small part of him still couldn’t help hoping. Merlin had said that it had taken him a while to regain himself after Du Bois had worked on him. If Morgana wasn’t as powerful a magic user then it stood to reason she would take longer to find herself again.

“We’ll see,” was all he said, not used to any sort of uncertainty from his father. “Shall we go in?”

“Yes.” Uther opened the door and stepped out of the car, the moment gone.

Arthur, for all the times he’d walked past the house, had never actually set foot on the property. It felt strange, as if he were trespassing. But Gwen had spoken to the owner, explained who Arthur and Uther were. Somehow she had persuaded him to allow the two of them to visit. Arthur wondered whether they should have brought Gwen along. She was always a calming presence. He had a feeling they might need that.

Percival Denton, the man who had purchased Morgana’s clone, opened the door to them. He looked understandably suspicious as Arthur introduced himself and his father, and cut Arthur short before the introductions finished. 

“Yeah, your PA explained who you were. You want to meet Emily because she was cloned from your sister.”

“Just for a few minutes,” Arthur promised.

“You sold her on.” Percival stood in the doorway, arms folded, blocking the way. Arthur doubted that he and his father together would be able to force him to move. The man was clearly some kind of bodybuilder.

“That may have been a mistake,” Arthur allowed.

“She lives here now.”

Percival didn’t refer to the clone as an ‘it’, Arthur noted. That was a good sign for her wellbeing, whether she was Morgana or not. 

“Of course she does,” Uther said in his most patronising tone. Arthur hoped Percival wouldn’t be able to tell that was what it was. “We wish to see her as we are considering commissioning another clone from my daughter’s DNA. We were… distressed, grieving, when we gave up the first one. Now that time has passed I wish to review the situation. We won’t be trying to take your… Emily, do you call her?”

“Yes.”

“We won’t be taking Emily from you. But if we could just spend a little time with her…”

Percival regarded them both for a moment, obviously considering whether or not to let them in. 

“I miss my sister very much,” Arthur added, trying to look as plaintive as possible.

Perhaps it worked, because Percival nodded brusquely and then stepped back to let them in. “Ten minutes then. That was what I agreed with your PA. Emily’s in the back garden, I’ll take you through.”

The back garden so that she wouldn’t see them unless Percival wanted her to, Arthur supposed as they walked through the house. It was either protective or controlling. He hoped for the former, even if this didn’t turn out to be Morgana.

The house looked clean but lived-in. Homely, Arthur would have said. It didn’t have the feel of a place kept soullessly immaculate by a carefully programmed clone. He tried hard not to get his hopes up though. They’d met the clone before. There had been no trace of Morgana.

And yet there was a definite feel of life in Percival’s home. There was a photo frame in the hallway with many different small pictures inside. Several of them were of Percival and Emily. They looked natural, happy. Strange that he would keep pictures of her. Arthur glanced at his father, but Uther hadn’t appeared to notice them and was striding after Percival, through the kitchen and out of the back door. 

“Morgana!” Uther called as soon as he stepped outside. 

“Emily,” Percival corrected with a growl.

Of course, his father had to break the agreement immediately, Arthur thought. Typical Uther. “Sorry,” he said to Percival. 

Emily was on her hands and knees in a corner of the garden. She had a couple of trays of plants, pansies and marigolds that were already starting to flower. From the look of the border that she was working on she had been there some time making it look good. Her long dark hair was tied back in a messy pony tail, and she was casually dressed in worn jeans and a soft cotton shirt. She wasn’t an immaculate clone at all. Nothing like the ones at the exhibition or in the catalogue. Emily would easily pass as completely human.

She turned her head to look at them, then wiped her hands on her jeans and stood up. Her hands were still quite filthy from the soil.

Arthur had never known Morgana want to do anything that got her hands dirty. It wasn’t that she had been precious about it, she had just never shown any interest. Uther had employed a gardener, and that was that. It didn’t bode well.

“Emily,” Percival began, “this is Arthur and Uther. They’ve come to visit.”

Emily smiled widely at them both. It was heart-wrenching. Arthur didn’t think he’d ever seen Morgana look so pleased about anything. And he just knew that their father would read it incorrectly. He wasn’t wrong.

“Ah, she remembers!” Uther exclaimed. “Look, Arthur!”

“Morgana never smiled like that,” Arthur warned. “Father, please.” He glanced nervously at Percival, who was looking daggers at Uther. “Remember what we’ve agreed to here.”

“Yes, yes…” Uther waved him aside impatiently. “Morgana, do you remember us? I’m your father, this is your brother…”

Uther didn’t get any further than that because Percival stepped in between him and Morgana, arms folded again.

“Her name is Emily. If you can’t remember that then I think it’s time for you to leave.”

For a moment Arthur thought that perhaps his father was actually going to continue. It wouldn’t have been entirely surprising as Uther Pendragon always just did exactly what he thought and to hell with the consequences. Money could usually buy him his way out of whatever might happen anyway. But evidently Uther had considered Percival’s superior size and strength and thought better of it.

“Father,” Arthur put in quickly before they were both thrown out, “why don’t you go and sit over there and let me do this. I can talk to Emily here” – he was careful to put the emphasis on her name – “for both of us.” He pointed towards a garden bench on the patio. 

Just for once Uther did what he was asked, although he didn’t look very happy about it. Arthur was left with the clone, and also with Percival hovering protectively nearby.

“I’m sorry about my father,” Arthur offered, trying hard to repair the damage. “It’s hard when you lose someone. He’s not thinking.”

Percival just nodded, still unsmiling. Arthur realised that was probably as good as it was going to get, and turned back to the clone.

“Hello Emily,” he began. And then he realised he had no idea what he wanted to say to her. He couldn’t ask if she was Morgana, which was all he really wanted to know. “I don’t know if you remember me?”

He’d meant from when she was a new clone, freshly delivered to the family home, wide-eyed and almost robotic in her mannerisms. 

“I have seen you driving past the house,” Emily replied unhelpfully, and Arthur heard Percival tut loudly. This was going very badly, all things considered. “I am pleased to meet you, Arthur.”

“You lived with us when you were first cloned,” Arthur explained. “But perhaps you don’t remember that?”

“I have always been with Percy,” Emily told him. She smiled at Percival, and Arthur wondered at how very fond that smile was. But they were programmed. It wasn’t real love. Unless it actually _was_ Morgana and she’d found a safe place. In which case they probably would be best leaving her there. “Percy is very kind. I love him very much. I am very happy.”

Was that her warning Arthur to stay away and leave her be? It was impossible to tell if it was that or simply a required compliant clone response.

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Arthur glanced at Percival again. The man’s expression had softened somewhat when he looked at Emily. He looked as if he genuinely cared. “And… you don’t have bad dreams?”

“Why?” Percival asked.

“Morgana suffered from nightmares,” Arthur explained. “She was a seer, she had visions. It’s why… well, she just couldn’t deal with it.”

“I don’t have bad dreams,” Emily confirmed. “I am sorry for Morgana.”

That was interesting, though not for the reason Arthur had asked the question. “Do you dream at all?”

“Sometimes.”

There was something shocking in that, if Emily was indeed ‘just’ a clone. It threw into question the morality of what Du Bois were doing even more. Dreaming implied sentience, imagination. Whilst robots were only machines, no matter how sophisticated, Emily’s dreams suggested a clone was not the empty vessel Du Bois was marketing them as.

Arthur had only ever met the show clones that Du Bois put on display at events. They were barely more than robots themselves, or so they appeared. This was something else. Another thing that was wrong with cloning, as bad in its way as what had been done to Merlin. They were living, sentient beings with thoughts of their own. And yet there were terrible restraints on them, as he’d discovered when Merlin had tried to escape. Merlin had his magic to fight it, but few others would be as fortunate. Emily, for example, showed no signs of having inherited Morgana’s ability.

“What do you dream about?”

Emily shrugged, a very human gesture. “Things that I have done. Sometimes I dream that I am in a movie that Percy and I have watched together.”

“You did have a nightmare once,” Percival reminded her. “You woke up crying.”

“We had watched a frightening film. I dreamt Percy had been eaten by zombies. I was very happy to wake up and find him alive and well.”

“As if some zombie could beat me!” Percival pointed out, and they both started laughing.

“You would eat the zombie first!” Emily told him happily, then looked at their guest. “Arthur, you appear unhappy. Are you unwell?”

Arthur thought he was going to be sick. She was a person, and all those other clones, every single one of them, they were people too. Treated like robots. 

“You’re not what I expected,” he managed. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

Over on the patio, Uther was still watching them all carefully. Arthur had no idea how he would react to this. He’d been overly enthusiastic about Merlin’s situation, and not for the right reasons. There was every reason to suppose that he would be exactly the same about Emily. He was also unlikely to sit over there for much longer.

“Have you seen enough?” Percival asked. He clearly wasn’t going to be happy until Arthur and Uther had left. But Arthur still had so many questions. Percival might be in a better position to answer them than Emily was. Perhaps it was a mistake, but Arthur’s gut instinct was to trust the man. Emily clearly did.

“For now,” Arthur replied. “Thank you for letting us come here. I’m working with a friend of mine. Have you heard of Leon Knight? He’s a TV journalist.”

“Not the guy on _The Monmouth Report_?”

“That’s him. He’s doing a report on clones. Would you consider meeting him and helping with his story? Emily seems so alive.”

“She _is_ alive,” Percival snapped. “Clones bleed and die, just like us.”

“Yes, yes I can see that now.”

“They have no rights at all, and yet they’re human… more human than some people. They…”

Arthur held up his hand to attempt to stop the rant he knew was building. And yet Percival appeared to be on the same page as he was, keen to make life better for the clones. “I agree, and I’m trying to do something about it. Leon’s report is us starting that. If I could tell him you’re willing to talk to him… perhaps if he could meet Emily as well? At least think about it.” He took one of his own business cards out of his wallet, and scribbled Leon’s work number on the back. “If you’d rather just speak to him, that will get you through.”

Percival nodded, and took the card Arthur held out to him. “If it would help. People just aren’t aware. Clones learn, they develop personalities. Emily wasn’t like this, not at first. She grew as a person. She learned. They’re people. It’s not right to buy and sell them.”

“I know,” Arthur told him. “I really do. And there’s more, but I can’t talk about it yet. You’ll see why on the show. Just, watch the Friday show and then perhaps we can talk more? I want to know more about Emily, and I know Leon will too.” He stuck out his hand and after a moment’s hesitation Percival shook it in a crushing grip. Arthur tried not to wince. “It was good to meet you.”

“Likewise, I think.” Percival had his arm around Emily, and now Arthur was certain that it was protective and caring. Even if this had been Morgana, Arthur thought he would have felt comfortable leaving her with the man. Percival was a decent sort.

“And it was good to meet you also, Emily,” Arthur held his hand out to the clone, who wiped her own hand yet again on her jeans before taking his. Her hand felt cool and soft, very small. “I’m sorry I interrupted your gardening. You’re doing a fine job with those plants.”

She smiled delightedly at him. He could see that she was itching to get back to what she was doing. But there was still clone programming in her that was stopping her doing so while people were talking to her. 

It was disturbing to see. Almost as bad as the situation with Merlin. 

“Arthur!” Uther called. He was getting up from the seat, his brief compliance as much as they could ever hope for. “What’s happening? We’re not leaving?”

“Yes we are,” Arthur called back. “No need to trouble these people further. Emily is not Morgana.” 

“Don’t bring him again,” Percival warned. “But we’ll watch your show. And then we’ll decide.”

That was as much as Arthur could hope for. He had a horrible feeling they might all be getting in over their heads. But someone had to speak up. For Merlin. And now for Emily too.

\---

Leon was still at Arthur’s flat when Arthur got back. Merlin had ordered them all pizza again, and the empty boxes were strewn around Arthur’s kitchen.

“None left for me then?” Arthur complained. Of course there wasn’t. Leon was as bad as Merlin. Arthur could still remember when they roomed together at uni. Leon would be up all night writing and by morning there would be an empty fridge and a snoring roommate. Great. Now he’d found a soulmate!

Hunith had taken Aithusa for a walk in the park opposite, but Leon and Merlin were still deep in conversation. They both looked up when Arthur entered the living room, almost as if they were glad of the distraction.

“How did it go?” Leon asked immediately. 

“Was it your sister?” Merlin added.

“It wasn’t what I was expecting,” Arthur told them honestly. He flopped down on the sofa, suddenly feeling very tired. “I don’t think it’s Morgana. Impossible to tell, because if her mind’s been wiped then we would simply never know. But that woman… Emily, her name is… Emily isn’t Morgana. And she’s not a vapid clone either. She’s something else. It felt as if she were human.”

“They are very lifelike,” Leon pointed out. “I mean, if they’re created properly then they’re grown from human cells. There is an argument that they are human. Quite a strong argument, even before Merlin came along. You know we’re going to get a strong reaction to this show? It could be the beginning of the end for cloning, at least as it is now.”

“Good.” Arthur wondered if it was too early for a drink. He really needed one. “It needs to end. It’s wrong. It’s all completely wrong. Du Bois are growing _people,_ Leon. The protesters have it right. Each one of those clones is a new person. Emily… she’s sweet and happy and thankfully with someone who cares about her. But what about the others? All those thousands out there just bred to serve or reanimated to serve. There are restraints in their heads to keep them compliant, but that just means they have no choice until their little lives get snuffed out. It’s not just magic users waking up. It’s the clones too once they’re old enough to start to think for themselves. I suppose they’d get sent back for being faulty if they started to question anything. We have to stop all of it, permanently.” 

Leon was watching him with a slightly amused expression on his face. “I never had you down as a white knight, Arthur.”

“I did,” Merlin told them, and if Arthur didn’t know better he would have sworn that was an overly-fond look on Merlin’s face. Much like the one Percival gave Emily. 

“Yeah, well Arthur wasn’t very interested in social issues at university. He was too busy studying.”

“Leon was too busy getting arrested for demonstrating about one worthy cause after another,” Arthur countered. “He’s always wanted to save the planet.”

“Still do,” Leon agreed. “But right now I want to save dead magic users.”

Leon could also probably see that Pulitzer Prize in his future, Arthur knew. And if they were successful with the clones then there was every likelihood that he would be up for it. 

“And now living clones too,” Arthur reminded him.

“Yes. Those too.”

“I’ve given Percival your number. I don’t think he’s a mad fan, you’re probably safe answering if he calls after the show.”

“My mum’s a mad fan,” Merlin grinned. “Honestly, if it wasn’t so serious she’d be calling all her friends and begging you and Geoffrey for selfies.”

“Leon always appeals to mums,” Arthur told him. “Also to teenagers, and to twenty-somethings, thirty-somethings, forty, fifty, sixty somethings… who all also might be mums. Or dads. Or grandparents. Little old ladies knit him gloves. We don’t know why.”

“I apparently appeal to a broad spectrum,” Leon clarified. “Arthur’s jealous.”

“Get him to show you some of his fanmail. Honestly, some of them would stop you sleeping for a month!” Too late Arthur realised what he had said, and wished he could take it back. But Merlin just laughed, so perhaps it was okay. Perhaps he was sleeping better and the night back in Ealdor had been a one-off. Perhaps. And they had managed to lighten the mood, if only for a few minutes. 

“After the broadcast you two might find yourselves with fanmail of your own,” Leon warned. “So don’t mock it.”

Arthur had been on Leon’s show before. They’d done a piece about robotics, just as clones were starting to become popular. He’d received a pile of messages as a result, numerous declarations of undying love, many offers to show him the benefits of a real person over a robot and several marriage proposals among them. He had binned the lot. It was probably something Merlin didn’t need to know in detail prior to the show.

“Arthur probably will,” Merlin decided.

“Dr. McGuiness and Arthur’s father are regular guests,” Leon told him. “You’d be amazed at the mail we get for them. Especially Dr. McGuiness. He’s very popular.”

Merlin looked confused.

“Gaius,” Arthur supplied helpfully.

“Oh… Oh!” Merlin’s eyes widened. “But… what? You don’t mean… They send him letters and home-baked cookies, that sort of thing?”

“There are things in life that it’s best not to know about, Merlin,” Leon said, nodding sagely. “But I gather there’s some sort of fan club for him and Geoffrey.”

Merlin looked bewildered. “Why?”

Oh, he had to ask. Arthur watched Leon’s grin widen.

“Apparently they have a rapport. Viewers think they should be together. Don’t search for it. There’s art and porn.”

“Leon’s searched,” Arthur added. “He emailed me links and didn’t tell me what they were. My eyes…”

“Oh my god!”

“They’ll probably decide you and Arthur look good together,” Leon continued. “So just prepare yourself for that, especially as you’re living together.”

A slow blush spread across Merlin’s face, right to the tips of his ears. He didn’t look at Arthur. 

“It’s harmless enough,” Arthur told him quickly, trying to cover his own embarrassment. “Ignore it. Remember what we’re trying to accomplish here and focus on that.”

Merlin still looked worried. Arthur could cheerfully have smacked Leon round the head for saying anything. Leon was used to the attention, he hadn’t considered what it would be like for someone like Merlin. 

Just then the awkward silence was broken by the front door opening and Aithusa bounding down the hall and into the living room, greeting everyone with joyful barks. Hunith hurried along behind him, all apologies and smiles, and the moment was lost. 

But Arthur couldn’t help but wonder whether Merlin had looked so worried because he was simply embarrassed, or because the thought of being with Arthur was repugnant. Arthur had bought him, after all. That fact wasn’t going to go unnoticed by viewers, nor the likely reason for the purchase. They could claim all they liked that Arthur had bought him for research but that wouldn’t stop the comments and accusations. 

He just hoped that his growing friendship with Merlin would survive them.

\---

For Merlin, one of the worst things about the pending TV show was having to relive everything he’d been through.

Leon was nothing if not thorough. He wanted details of every moment that Merlin could remember about his ordeal. He was particularly interested in any other non-clones that Merlin had encountered, and when he asked Arthur to bring up the latest online catalogue from Du Bois, Merlin found out why.

“Have a look through this,” Leon told him. “See if you recognise any of them. We’ve got a good budget, we could buy them if you think there’s a chance they might be like you. Effectively we’ll be rescuing them by doing that, so you’ll be helping them by doing this.”

That was good enough reason for Merlin. He eagerly scrolled through the catalogue, looking at page after page of brightly smiling clone. None of them looked familiar. All of them looked vacuous and almost robotic in their expressions. 

Arthur sat down beside him with two hot, steaming mugs of tea, one of which was for Merlin. And a couple of chocolate biscuits. It was good to have him there. Leon was off talking to Merlin’s mother again, and the catalogue trawl could have been a long and lonely process. It was still grim, knowing what might be behind those smiles, but Arthur sat close, warm at Merlin’s side.

“You know, I found you in the more expensive section,” Arthur admitted after a while. “You weren’t in the general clones. I went through the unique ones. They’re pricey, but it might be worth spending some time looking through that section rather than this one. Most of these say three or four models so unless they’ve found dead triplets and quads these really are clones.”

“I thought you wanted to save them all?” Merlin queried as he started to explore the unique clone section. The first page looked no different to the general section.

“I do,” Arthur assured him. “But we have to do this one step at a time. I think if we reveal the fact they’re reanimating bodies and selling them on then everything else will follow easily. Hard to argue that there’s any difference between a living person, one that’s been resuscitated, and one that’s been grown in a lab. Not when they’re all capable of thought. But the horror of your story will be the trigger. If we could find another one there would be no way to deny it.”

Merlin nodded, trying to concentrate on the screen. Several pages flipped over to reveal more and more clones. All of them had an almost identical smile. 

“They all look the same, somehow,” Arthur murmured as the pages turned. “I noticed that when I was looking for you. Everyone was the same, and then I got to your page and there was something in your smile. It didn’t reach your eyes. You looked so haunted. I had to choose you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Merlin paused in his search, turning to look at Arthur for a moment. Arthur was so close and gazing at him so sincerely that for a moment Merlin almost forgot himself and started to lean in for a kiss.

Of course Aithusa had to choose that moment to come running in and leap up at Arthur, ruining the moment. Merlin watched enviously as Arthur made a fuss of the little dog. But perhaps it was just as well, he considered. He might have tried to kiss Arthur and made a fool of himself. And what if he hadn’t, and one thing had led to another, and then Arthur realised that Merlin wasn’t working properly? No, it was a terrible idea. Instead he looked away, back at the screen, turning the pages…

And then suddenly there was a familiar face.

“That one!” Merlin cried. “Leon! Leon! I’ve found one!”

It was the young dark-haired man who had screamed and fought and then been taken away. He was there in the catalogue, pale and sad-eyed with a smile that looked too forced to be genuine. But then most of the clones probably weren’t genuine either.

Leon and Hunith both came rushing over to look, Leon leaning over Merlin’s shoulder.

“Which one?” he asked.

Merlin pointed at the young man. “Him, I’m sure of it! I was in a room… there were ten of us. I’d learned to keep quiet by then, I was pretending that their process had worked. He must have been newer, or just hadn’t worked out that he shouldn’t draw attention to himself. He argued and fought and then they took him away. I didn’t see him again. But yes, he definitely survived their process at least once. He must have had magic.”

“Perfect,” Leon breathed. “This is just what we need. I’ll see if we can find him. He must have died at roughly the same time as you, Merlin. There’ll be a news article somewhere, perhaps we can find a name, some family to confirm he had magic while we’re waiting for him to be sent through.”

“His name was Mordred,” Merlin told them. “He kept saying it. They were calling him Byron and he kept protesting, telling them it wasn’t his name. I remember him saying it over and over.”

“It’s not a common name, so that’ll help,” Leon patted Merlin on the back, then gestured for him to stand up. “I’ll need to take details, but this is just what we need. Thanks Merlin.”

“I don’t need to look at any more?” Merlin checked.

Leon glanced up at him and for a moment Merlin thought that he was going to say that yes, Merlin _did_ need to look through every single one. But perhaps the strain was showing in his face because Leon paused, then shook his head. 

“Not today. You’ve done really well, Merlin. I know this isn’t easy for you. But it’s important. You’re doing good things here. Take a break, you’ve earned it. Don’t want you looking exhausted on the show!”

Merlin got up and moved away from the chair so that Leon could sit down. If he never had to look at that catalogue again it would be too soon.

“Of course,” Leon added as he settled himself in front of the screen, “if you could go through the rest of them tomorrow that would be really helpful…”

\---


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin lay awake in the bed Arthur had put up for him out in the living room. 

He was supposed to feel safe there, living in Arthur’s flat, protected by all the money and security that Arthur’s father could throw at them. There was a security guard on the door downstairs, and in theory nobody was going to get past that.

But people could be bought, especially people whose salary was not perhaps the best to start with. Someone, perhaps many someones, must have been paid money to provide Du Bois with bodies in the first place. Someone must have carried them out of the morgue, or dug them up, or done whatever it was.

The coffin wasn’t empty, Will had said. It had weighed enough that Will and Gwaine and whoever else carried him through the church had believed that he was lying inside. So was he in there during the funeral? Did they bury him? Did he lie beneath the earth, not actually properly dead, and then Du Bois dug him up later? Was that why he couldn’t get a hard-on now even though he had blood running through his veins? And what would happen when he died again (because he would, everyone did)? Would he keep coming back, over and over? Would he end up shrivelled and tiny like the Sibyl of Cumae, hanging up and begging people to let him die? 

It was terrifying. His subconscious didn’t seem to know what to have nightmares about first, there was so much to choose from. Merlin knew that if he closed his eyes then there would be something. Perhaps it would be his actual experiences in the clone factory because gods, those were bad enough. But the claustrophobic thought that he might have actually been in a coffin and buried beneath several feet of cold earth, left to rot. What if he’d woken up then?

He wasn’t going to sleep that night, he knew. The thoughts running through his head were just too horrible to bear. Mordred’s not-quite-smiling face kept coming back to haunt him. The sounds of the screams from that place…

Merlin really didn’t want to look at the catalogue again. It had just made everything so much worse, brought it all back.

His mum was safely in the spare room, sleeping peacefully. He wanted so much to just go to her but he couldn’t share those terrifying thoughts with her. She couldn’t know what he was thinking. It wouldn’t be fair. She’d been through enough already. And Arthur would be sound asleep, Merlin had disturbed him two nights ago back in Ealdor, and then it sounded as if Arthur had suffered his own distressing experience with his sister’s clone earlier. No, Merlin was determined not to disturb either of them. He could get through all the bad memories. He would.

It was just so very hard to get to sleep while those memories were still there.

\---

Arthur wasn’t sleeping very well either.

His experience meeting Emily had raised so many questions about the whole cloning issue. He lay awake for a long time, going over it all in his head.

Gwen, who was the most cheerful, level-headed person that he knew, always told him that if he couldn’t sleep because work was troubling him then he should turn on the light, write all the problems on a notepad, and then he could stop thinking about them because they were there in black and white for the morning.

Arthur had been sceptical, but he’d tried it once or twice and it did sort of work. Or perhaps concentrating on writing something down tipped his brain into sleep mode? He didn’t know. Anyway, he sat up, turned on the light and grabbed his bedside notebook.

Gwen had actually bought him that notebook. It had rainbow clouds all over it, which were presumably supposed to indicate sleep. He must have looked really tired that particular day. But then he did tend to take his work home with him and worry about it. Especially if his father was being more critical than usual. Arthur kept the notebook in his bedside drawer, hidden away because it was most definitely _not_ something that he wanted anyone to see!

With Merlin and the clones though, it was different from his work troubles. Arthur kept thinking of different things to ask about, different issues with the laws on cloning. He’d covered two pages without any effort at all, long lists of questions and theories. 

Leon had always said at uni that Arthur needed to find something that he was passionate about. Arthur had thought that it was robotics but he was starting to see that wasn’t the case. There was a difference between simply being interested in a subject, and being passionate about a cause. Emily’s face kept coming back to him, along with all the horror stories Merlin had told.

She wasn’t Morgana. But what if Morgana had survived the process anyway? What if she’d gone through all the hell Merlin had experienced but there had been no Arthur to purchase her? She wasn’t in the catalogue (he’d looked right through every section several times) though that meant nothing because she would have been entered onto it a year or so ago and be long gone. 

If that had happened then they had failed her so badly. It wasn’t even something he could share with his father, because Arthur really didn’t want anyone else to dwell on the horrible possibilities. And they would never know. Unlike Merlin who had been taken without his family’s knowledge, Morgana’s DNA had been harvested with Uther’s full consent. Du Bois had taken her body. They’d claimed to have cremated her afterwards and given Uther ashes to bury. But that could have simply been a handful of dust. It could have been anything. Knowing what he now did, nothing would have surprised Arthur. 

Or it could have been Morgana, just as Du Bois claimed. After all, who was going to check the DNA of cremated dust?

When he’d written down everything he could think of, Arthur put the book away, turned off the light and settled back down to sleep again. He already felt a little calmer. One day he was going to have to tell Gwen that she was right, buy her some flowers or something. Lord knew she deserved them for putting up with Arthur’s father!

He closed his eyes, and that was when he heard the sounds. 

It was a male voice, Merlin, talking fast and low to someone. It sounded as if he was begging and pleading with them. Arthur sat up again quickly, and turned on the light. The pleading didn’t stop. Merlin sounded deeply distressed. Merlin could deny it all he liked but Arthur had been through enough with Morgana to know the signs of a nightmare. Arthur got out of bed and hurried across to the door. The sound was getting louder, more frantic. Arthur supposed that any moment Merlin was going to start yelling and screaming. If Arthur allowed him to do that and cause Hunith even more distress then Merlin wouldn’t thank him for it. She’d cried through so much of Merlin’s tale, even though she couldn’t possibly have known what was happening to him.

Out in the living room, Arthur switched the light on. That had normally woken Morgana quickly but on the sofa bed Merlin was tossing and turning, still entreating his invisible assailant to stop whatever it was they were doing to him. He’d kicked most of the covers off and was lying there on a crumpled sheet, the old t-shirt he was wearing soaked through with sweat. 

“Merlin!” Arthur crouched beside him, trying to wake him as gently as possible. “Merlin, you’re dreaming… it’s just a dream… you’re safe now. It’s just a bad dream… you need to wake up.”

Merlin didn’t react immediately, still caught up in his nightmare. Arthur wasn’t sure what to do that wouldn’t be a trigger that made things worse. He resisted the urge to shake him awake and opted to try taking Merlin’s hand, still reassuring him that things would be okay. 

“Merlin, it’s just a dream. Come on, wake up. Wake up.”

“Don’t! Don’t! Please…”

Merlin suddenly sat up so fast that his head nearly smashed into Arthur’s. He looked around wildly, blinking in the light. There were tears running down his cheeks and he was breathing hard as if he’d been running. It took a few moments, and then he seemed to focus on Arthur.

“It was just a dream,” Arthur repeated. “You’re safe here.”

“Arthur…” 

“You’re safe.”

Merlin stared at Arthur for a moment, then suddenly grabbed him in a fierce hug, pulling him close. Arthur could feel Merlin’s slender body trembling against him through the thin t-shirt. He didn’t hesitate for a moment, immediately holding Merlin close through the huge gasping sobs that were racking his body. 

“It’s okay, Merlin, it’s okay…” Arthur murmured, gently stroking his back. “It was a dream… it’s over.”

Nobody should ever have had to go through what Merlin did, Arthur thought as he did his best to comfort him. At that moment, had Agravaine or one of his people been there Arthur didn’t know if he would have been able to stop himself attacking them. Merlin was probably going to be mentally scarred for life from what they’d done. Arthur had never thought of himself as a vengeful person, but he felt it then. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin gulped between sobs. He tried to pull away a little, but Arthur didn’t let him. Tears could be therapeutic. Morgana had been better after the release a good cry could bring. It let out the tension. And to Arthur’s knowledge, Merlin hadn’t really cried since he’d arrived. Not like he was at that moment.

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for,” Arthur told him fiercely. “Nothing.”

“Your t-shirt’s wet,” Merlin sniffled.

Arthur really didn’t care about that. He pressed a kiss to the top of Merlin’s head, inhaling the warm, slightly sweaty scent of his hair. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not just tears…”

Yuck. “It’s okay,” Arthur repeated. He could feel that Merlin wasn’t trembling so violently against him any more. “You had a bad dream. Probably because you’ve had to dredge up all those terrible memories. But you’re safe now, you know that, don’t you?”

Merlin nodded against him.

“You’re here with me and your mum. And we’re going to expose what they did to you, it’s not going to happen to you or anyone else ever again. But I’ll tell Leon to go easy on you in the morning.”

“No!” Merlin pulled away, wiping furiously at his face then fixing Arthur with a determined look. “I’m okay. I can deal with this. We have to do everything we can do get the message across. There’ll only be one chance to get it right. I can cope.”

Arthur wasn’t so sure about that. “You didn’t look as if you were coping. I thought you were about to start screaming the place down.”

Merlin didn’t deny it, which was telling in itself. “It’s worth it. For what we’re doing. Worth it.” He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself as much as Arthur.

“Hmm.” Arthur knew what Merlin meant, but it seemed to be putting a heavy strain on him. “We’ll see. Do you want a drink now, something to help you sleep?”

Just for a moment there was a fearful expression flitting across Merlin’s face that he didn’t quite manage to completely hide. Then it was gone, replaced by something not quite as detached and careless as Merlin probably thought it was.

“I’m fine. Sorry, I woke you up. I might sit here and watch the TV for a bit.”

“And then try to sleep?” Arthur queried. Merlin needed his rest. The last thing Arthur wanted to see happen was for Merlin to look constantly tired and drawn like Morgana had done before she’d died. “You need sleep.”

They couldn’t even take him to a doctor to get tablets because Merlin didn’t officially exist. And sleeping tablets hadn’t helped Morgana. She’d still had the visions, she simply hadn’t been able to wake up from them. And then she’d used those tablets… Arthur shuddered at the memory. His beautiful, beloved sister… No, he wasn’t going to have Merlin on those things if he could help it.

“It’s okay, the TV’s going to distract me. And I’ll keep the volume low, won’t disturb anyone.”

Arthur glanced over at the door to the hallway. “I’m surprised Aithusa didn’t wake up.”

Aithusa slept with Hunith in the spare room that led off the hallway and the doors to both rooms were was still closed. Perhaps it was better soundproofed than Arthur thought.

“Oh, he’s useless as a guard dog. He’d lick any burglars to death. He’ll be in there dreaming of breakfast and walks in that park over the road.” Merlin managed a smile. It was good to see. Still Arthur couldn’t leave him sitting out there alone with only the TV for company. Not with the state Merlin had been in.

“He’s a brilliant dog. I’ll miss him when your mum takes him home.” Arthur privately thought he’d miss Merlin terribly as well, when he inevitably left. But that was probably a little further down the line. 

“Me too.”

“Yes.” Arthur didn’t think his answer was to entirely the same thing Merlin was saying. “Anyway, budge up.”

Merlin raised a curious eyebrow at him. “Why?”

Arthur shrugged, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Well, I can’t leave you out here watching TV all night, I’ll only lie awake worrying about you. So we might as well watch a film together.”

Merlin looked down at the rumpled, sweaty sheets, then back at Arthur. His puffy, tearstained face was heartbreaking. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re my responsibility.”

“You’ve done more than enough. And I feel like I probably smell a bit. The sheets too. Sitting here with me wouldn’t be good.”

Arthur sighed. “Go and have a shower then. Change your t-shirt. You’ll feel better for it. Then go and sleep in my bed, its more comfortable than this one…”

“ _Your_ bed?” Merlin’s eyes grew wide.

“Um… yes. Uh, I’ll sleep out here,” Arthur added quickly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the implication that he hadn’t meant. “There’s a TV in there, but you might find it easier to sleep and not need to sit up.”

“I can’t kick you out of your bed!”

“You’re not. I’m offering,” Arthur told him patiently. “You need a decent night’s sleep and you’re clearly not getting it out here.”

“It’s not the bed that’s the problem.”

Arthur knew that, but he couldn’t think of anything else that would help. “I know. Have you had a single good night’s sleep since you’ve been here? Honestly?”

Merlin shook his head. “Not here. Just once, back in Ealdor, that night when you sat with me on the sofa. That was the best I’ve slept. I felt safer because you were there. Every night apart from that one I wake up from a nightmare. That time I just couldn’t get to sleep, that’s why I went down to get a drink.”

There was an obvious solution, but Arthur didn’t think he could suggest it. It was still always playing on his mind that he’d _bought_ Merlin. It just wouldn’t be right to sleep with him, even though it would be platonic.

The trouble was, Arthur didn’t really feel very platonic towards Merlin any more.

“Well…” Arthur looked towards his bedroom, then back at the sofa, then at Merlin. No, he couldn’t say it. Merlin looked so vulnerable.

“We could both sleep in your bed,” Merlin said shyly, looking up at Arthur from under his lashes. “I mean, it’s really big… not that I’ve been looking but that first day when I was supposed to be doing the cleaning obviously I was in there and I saw it _was_ a very big bed and so it would easily take two and I’m not trying to… um… well…”

Arthur didn’t think that he was going to sleep a wink if Merlin was lying there with him, although they’d both slept soundly on that sofa in Ealdor. It would be a quite different matter in his own bed, as if they were lovers.

“If you think that would help,” he ventured, and immediately mentally kicked himself for not trying to get out of it. 

“Oh, thanks Arthur. Honestly, that would help, I know it would. I’ll go and shower, I know I stink.”

“You don’t…” Arthur began but Merlin had already hurried off to use Arthur’s en-suite.

Somehow, again, Arthur was left to tidy up. He quickly stripped the sheets off the sofa bed and put it back together, then wandered off to the kitchen to make Merlin some hot chocolate. He took as long as he possibly could to make it, then dawdled in the kitchen a little longer. Perhaps he should make one for himself too? Yes…

That took more time. The shower had stopped for some time. Arthur was running out of reasons not to go back into his bedroom. He didn’t want to sleep with Merlin.

Well, no, that wasn’t true. Arthur most definitely _did_ want to sleep with Merlin and that was the problem. What if Merlin woke up with a massive boner poking into his side? What if Arthur talked in his sleep and told Merlin how he felt? What if Merlin had another nightmare, started screaming and then Hunith came rushing in? That would look really bad. 

“Arthur?” Merlin called. 

And then there was really no excuse for staying out there any longer. Arthur picked up the two steaming mugs and headed for the bedroom.

“Kitchen lights,” he said firmly, and they duly shut off behind him.

In the bedroom, only the bedside lights were on. Merlin was sitting up in bed, in Arthur’s bed, reading. He had a clean t-shirt on, this one looked worn to a perfect softness and had what looked like a very faded picture of the logo from Warlord on it. He looked up at Arthur’s approach, a little nervous and uncertain at first, then his face broke into a delighted smile when he saw what Arthur had in his hands.

“Hot chocolate? You’re the best!” He put the book on the nightstand, still open at the page he had been looking at.

That was when Arthur realised that Merlin had been reading his notebook. It was private, but then he supposed that he had left it out on the side, wide open. And his notes were all about clones so Merlin would probably not even have realised it was a private notebook. As long as he hadn’t gone back a few pages and seen things written down that had bothered Arthur in the past. That would be embarrassing. 

“You know that might be considered private,” Arthur nodded towards the book as he handed over the drink. 

Merlin managed to look guilty and defiant at the same time. “It was open,” he pointed out indignantly. “And I could see my name… you’ve got really neat handwriting, Arthur. My teachers always said mine looked like a spider had fallen into an inkwell then crawled out all over the page!”

“Why aren’t I surprised?” Arthur put his own drink down on the opposite nightstand, and then climbed into bed beside Merlin, trying to keep things as casual as possible. It seemed like forever since he’d last had anyone else in that bed. Perhaps it was. “Practicing for that career in medicine, no doubt.” 

Merlin pouted at him. “I’ll be brilliant.”

“I know,” Arthur told him softly. 

They gazed at each other for a long moment, then Arthur broke it, turning away to pick up and take a mouthful of his still-too-hot drink in an attempt to distract both their attentions. He immediately spat it back into the cup, his mouth burned.

“Ow! Damn!” Arthur winced at the pain, wishing he’d thought to keep a glass of water by his bedside. Obviously this was why people did that, in case they were idiots who thought their mouths were made of asbestos or something.

Merlin was still gazing at him with an adoring expression on his face. It was so difficult not to just kiss him. Arthur tried ignorance instead.

“What?”

“I…uh…think you need a doctor,” Merlin mumbled awkwardly. He put down his own mug, slopping a little of the drink on the nightstand, then leaned in to capture Arthur’s mouth in a kiss that was almost as clumsy as the fumbled pick-up line that he had attempted.

For a moment or two Arthur just couldn’t help himself and he eagerly returned the kiss. It had been so long, and he liked Merlin so much. More than liked, if he were honest. But he couldn’t, not while he wasn’t certain that Merlin wasn’t still controlled in some way by the Du Bois programming. 

“No, Merlin,” Arthur pulled away.

“Yes, Merlin,” Merlin insisted, trying to kiss him again. 

Arthur put out a hand to try to hold him at bay. “I said no.”

Perhaps that was a little too harshly done. Merlin’s face fell, and he didn’t appear to be able to look at Arthur any more.

“You don’t like me like that.”

“Oh no,” Arthur assured him with feeling. “I do. I _really_ do.”

“Then why not? I like you, you say you like me…”

“Merlin,” Arthur said in the most serious tone he could manage, “One day you’ll have your identity back. You won’t be beholden to me in any way and will officially be just another citizen. We’ll be completely certain that any magical programming that was used on you has gone, so you know your own mind. And when we’ve reached that day, then I would love nothing more than to take you out on a date and try to persuade you that I’m exactly what you’ve been looking for all your life.”

“I already think that!” Merlin protested. “Arthur, you’re brilliant. We’d be brilliant!”

“We will be,” Arthur promised. “But on our terms, not when you might be just thinking what Du Bois told you to.”

“My magic’s wiped out all of that! He doesn’t control me any more!”

Arthur knew that wasn’t true. He’d seen the programming slipping in every now and then. It was getting less but it was still there. He didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t. But Merlin needed to see. 

“Bonsoir, Merlin. Comment va-tu?”

“Trés bien, merci,” Merlin replied immediately, then looked horrified. “Non… uh NO! That’s not fair, Arthur!”

“I heard you start to do it earlier. Leon said déjà vu, and your reply wasn’t in English. What they did to you is still in there, some of it at least. I’m not risking it. And that is absolutely not because I don’t want to, don’t ever think that.”

“Just makes me like you even more,” Merlin grumbled. “You have to be a noble, righteous, self-sacrificing, obstinate git. I’m certain it’s me feeling that way, Arthur. I know there’s some of it left in me. But it’s not much and I can stop it right away.”

“Merlin…”

“I could _leave_!” Merlin exclaimed. “Arthur, you order me to stay here and I’ll show you, I’ll walk out! I’ll leave the flat, and then you’ll believe me!”

“Merlin…”

“Do it! Tell me that I have to stay.”

“It won’t prove anything. You don’t actually want to leave here.”

“It will! Try it!”

Merlin looked so determined that Arthur didn’t really have a choice. Ironic, when it was Merlin’s freedom to choose that they were arguing about.

Arthur gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. Merlin, I order you to stay in my bedroom. Do not go into the kitchen and absolutely do not get me a glass of cold water. I forbid it. Happy?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see exactly what you did there!” he warned. But still he scrambled out of bed and left the room without the slightest difficulty. 

Arthur made himself comfortable. It was probably a terrible idea to share a bed with Merlin for so many reasons, but he’d started it now so there was no backing out. And if it helped with the nightmares Merlin was suffering from then Arthur was determined to endure any amount of frustration. Judging by Merlin’s behaviour so far, it was going to be a lot.

Arthur heard what sounded like something falling on the floor out in the kitchen, accompanied by a curse from Merlin. He hoped it was just ice cubes. But Merlin was used to having a pet dog running round so would be sure to clear up anything that was broken. Hopefully.

A few moments later Merlin came back in and closed the door behind him. In his hand he held a glass of water which he held up proudly.

“See! Now tell me not to tip it on your head you lazy git!”

“You’d be sleeping in a wet bed,” Arthur warned.

“True.” Merlin handed the glass over, nearly losing his balance when he leaned over the bed. Luckily Arthur managed to grab the glass and minimise spillage. “Whoops!”

Arthur shook his head despairingly, setting the glass down safely while Merlin climbed back into bed. “You really are hopeless. What did you break in there?”

“Nothing!” Merlin protested indignantly. 

“I heard a crash.”

“Some of the ice cubes fell on the floor. That dispenser on your fridge shot them at me! It’s set to kill!”

Arthur glanced warily at the glass of water and wondered whether the cubes in it were the same ones that had been on the floor. Perhaps he didn’t really need that cool water. His mouth felt miraculously better already.

“So,” Merlin wriggled down into the bed, head resting on the pillow and gazing up at Arthur with a half-smile on this face, “I’ve proved I don’t have to do what you say. That means it’s okay for you to shag me!”

Arthur wondered if he should have asked for a glass of whisky instead. Though that would also have suffered the fallen ice cubes, he supposed. Still, he could have done with it. And it was very tempting to just give in. Merlin was right, even if there was some clone programming left Merlin generally seemed to have control of his faculties and choices. 

“You,” he told Merlin, “are really testing my resolve. Are these techniques you learned from that sleazy boyfriend of yours back in Ealdor?”

“Gwaine’s not my boyfriend, we went on one date and it didn’t end well,” Merlin pointed out. “So, I’m free and single, and very, very available!” 

He moved closer so that Arthur could feel the heat of his body. There wasn’t any tell-tale hardness though, nothing pressing against Arthur’s side.

“So you learned it from some other boyfriend in Ealdor?” Arthur checked.

“There’s no other boyfriend. There weren’t a lot of gay or bi men in Ealdor. Will’s like a brother and that was about it.”

Arthur bit his lip. That meant Merlin was a virgin and although that was oh so tempting, it was also a huge no.

“Merlin,” he sighed. “God, I’d like to, you have no idea. But I’m not taking advantage of you while you’re tired and horny and scared like this.”

“I’m not scared!” Merlin cried indignantly.

“I know you’re not scared of sex. I mean scared everything that’s going on. And anyway, your first time shouldn’t be a convenient fumble with the first body that comes along. Find someone who means something to you. There’s plenty of time afterwards for one night stands and booty calls. But your first time should be special.”

“But _you’re_ special!”

Arthur gave up. He pulled back the covers to expose Merlin lying there in his t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. The loose material around his crotch wasn’t tenting even a little bit. For all his protestations Merlin was less aroused than any regular guy his age would be in a similar situation. It wasn’t really surprising after the state he’d been in when Arthur woke him up. He was just seeking distraction, Arthur decided. 

“You don’t really want sex. What is it you want, Merlin?”

Again Merlin looked as if he might cry. Tears came easily to him, Arthur noticed. But then he did have plenty to cry about.

“I _do_ want sex but it doesn’t work,” he gulped, and then the tears did start. “There’s something wrong with me and I thought if you fucked me then that might sort it out.”

“What?” Arthur gaped at him. 

“I’m broken,” Merlin told him, his words punctuated by sobs. “Ever since I came back, it just… there’s nothing. And I thought it was just because of everything that happened, and then it still wasn’t and then again… and it’s like I don’t have any sort of feeling down there at all and it’s not right!”

Arthur frowned, not entirely understanding what he was being told. “What do you mean?”

Merlin sniffed hard, wiping at his eyes, then glared at Arthur. “You need me to spell it out? I can’t get an erection. Nothing. Nada. It’s like they neutered me or something. But they couldn’t have done because we’re sold for sex. So I don’t know what it is. But I’ve not come back right.”

“Oh Merlin,” Arthur pulled him close, planting a fond kiss on the top of his head. “It might just be temporary, like you speaking French. Your magic will heal you.”

“There’s not been any change. It’s like I’m not interested any more. I hate this,” he pulled away and looked up at Arthur. “I want to be back like I was before. I don’t know what’s me and what’s something they created any more.”

Arthur refrained from pointing out that this was exactly why they shouldn’t have sex. But Merlin was upset enough without that. And, as it turned out, there were better reasons why they shouldn’t.

“We’ll find a way to help you,” Arthur promised. “Just… don’t think you’ll fix the problem by sleeping with some random bloke.”

“You’re not random!”

“No, but don’t get tempted to try with anyone else. I think your body will heal itself in time but for now just be patient. I don’t know what you were thinking – sleeping with me would have been miserable for you.”

“Lucky you’re such a saint then,” Merlin grumbled. “And it wouldn’t have been miserable. I…I just want you to hold me,” he admitted in a small voice. “I thought if we had sex then you would afterwards. And I do want to, Arthur, maybe I’m not able to feel anything for now but I do want to, I really like you.”

Arthur smiled then, because at least that was something he could do.

“Come on then,” he said, settling down in the bed and then pulling Merlin close once more. Merlin immediately snuggled up against him with a happy little exclamation, warm and alive.

Merlin probably was going to wake up in the morning with Arthur poking him in the thigh, but there wasn’t a lot Arthur could do about that.

He was surprised though at how very right lying there with Merlin felt. As if they were meant to be together.

\---


	10. Chapter 10

For Merlin, waking up in a strange bed brought a brief moment of disorientation the following morning. Arthur was lying spooned up behind him, one arm protectively round Merlin’s waist, keeping him close.

There had been no further dreams that night. Merlin cringed inwardly when he replayed his hopeless attempts to seduce Arthur and then his confession afterwards. The man really was a prince, or some kind of saint. And Arthur was right, frustrating as it was. It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t find Arthur hugely attractive (and judging by the boner Merlin could feel up against him that morning, the feeling was mutual) but there was no way that he could act on it. 

Carefully, trying hard not to wake Arthur, Merlin slipped out from under Arthur’s arm and headed for the bathroom. It was another day, probably full of questions and more horrible revelations. Best to get it started.

When he came back out Arthur was still asleep. He looked peaceful, spread out in the bed, his hair golden in the morning light filtering in through the window. Merlin hoped his dreams were as gentle as he looked – the gift of a decent night’s sleep that Arthur had given Merlin was deserving of all good things in return. 

Merlin noticed their barely-touched drinks were still on the nightstands, cold and unpleasant. He could at least try to make Arthur some sort of breakfast, he thought. 

How hard could that be?

\---

Arthur’s day hadn’t started well. He’d woken up alone, though that was because Merlin had got some misguided idea in his head that he needed to try to make breakfast. 

It could have been worse, there had been a horrible attempt at toast which had turned out charred on one side, but at least he’d got it right the second time. Merlin was definitely never going to be cut out to be a house husband.

Now that he knew the truth about what had been playing on Merlin’s mind, Arthur could see him in a different light. The fear that was always evident in Merlin, lurking just beneath the surface, had a different slant to it. 

Arthur couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him.

Still, the Friday evening edition of _The Monmouth Report_ was progressing. Leon called while they were still eating breakfast and summoned them all into the studio. There were to be some pre-filmed segments and he wanted Merlin and Hunith both in there for that. 

Arthur could have gone to work. It was Wednesday and he’d not yet spent a single day that week at Pendragon Robotics. Doubtless Elyan would be doing a good job and could manage fine without Arthur, but it was strange after so long to not be in there. It was rare for him to take a day off normally, but suddenly it all seemed far less important.

Instead of work he went with Hunith and Merlin to the studio. At first it seemed he would have nothing to do. He’d been there before and knew how the Friday night show would go. But it was still interesting to watch wardrobe trying to decide what best to dress Merlin in, and to hear all his complaints about it. That was more the Merlin he knew and loved, not the distraught creature from the previous night.

Hunith was off being interviewed separately. They weren’t going to make her sit on the couch and be grilled on the live show. Instead Leon had set up something in one of the smaller studios. It was decorated (at least the part that the camera would see) like someone’s cosy living room. Watching things being filmed always took the magic away.

Merlin, bizarrely, was filming with Aithusa. They’d barely had time to take Aithusa for a walk that morning before Leon had called to see why they weren’t already at the studio. The sociable little mutt hadn’t minded, he’d found many new friends as soon as he arrived. It was all they could do to pull him away from Isolde, one of the production crew, who had taken a real shine to him and threatened to steal him. She was probably joking. Probably.

Aithusa’s recognition of Merlin was something Leon wanted to use. Unfortunately the re-enactment took many takes because Aithusa was used to seeing Merlin again and far more excited at all the thrilling new people at the studio. Eventually Isolde had to stand behind Merlin, just out of camera shot, with a doggy treat held out. A bit of editing, and they had the shots they needed.

Aithusa was definitely not going to be the next Lassie.

Strangely, Leon didn’t hang around after talking to Hunith. He was off as soon as the interview finished, giving some vague excuse about another project for the following week. 

“I thought this was the story of the year?” Arthur grumbled as his friend hurried away.

“Follow-on!” Leon called back. “Tell you when it’s confirmed!”

And then he was gone.

There wasn’t a great deal of time to wonder about that, because Tristan (the head of production) announced a few minutes later that they’d managed to purchase the Mordred clone from Du Bois, and he would be arriving the following morning. It would be cutting things very very fine, only leaving barely more than 24 hours before the Friday night broadcast, but that couldn’t be helped. Arthur got the distinct impression that they would be covering Merlin’s story for more than one week. But as Merlin was already quite nervous about the whole thing, Arthur decided not to share that impression with him for the time being.

And then, finally, they could go back home and would have the rest of the day to themselves.

Hunith immediately elected to go sightseeing. Arthur expected Merlin to go with her, so he called Gaius and made arrangements to finally go back to work. He was a little surprised when Hunith departed and Merlin was still there.

“Didn’t you want to see the capital too?”

Merlin shook his head. “I thought I was supposed to keep a low profile.”

Arthur supposed that was true. “But nobody will know you in Camelot.” Not until Friday evening, anyway. “It’s not like appearing in Ealdor. And I have to work. I’ve missed nearly three days.”

Merlin shrugged, and followed Arthur out of the door. “I won’t get in the way.”

Somehow Arthur doubted that.

He wasn’t wrong.

It seemed relatively straightforward to leave Merlin with Gwen as soon as they arrived in Pendragon Robotics HQ. Gwen immediately took him under her wing and sorted out a permanent pass for him. Gwen was the kindest, friendliest of people and Arthur expected Merlin to stay with her for as long as he possibly could. 

That didn’t happen. Arthur got up to his lab, located Elyan and started catching up on what he’d missed over the past few days. There wasn’t a great deal, Elyan thought he’d found the issue with the robotic arm that Arthur had been working on and the pair of them started examining the error in the code that Elyan had found. They’d been at it for barely twenty minutes before Merlin appeared.

“Arthur, where’s Gaius?” Merlin asked. “I wanted to see him.”

Behind Merlin, Arthur saw Gwen looking apologetic and mouthing ‘sorry’. 

“Probably in his office,” Arthur told him. “You know, _working_!”

Merlin didn’t take the hint. “Which one is his?”

“Probably the one with the sign that says Dr. Gaius McGuiness on the door,” Elyan advised snarkily. “Who’s your pushy friend, Sis?” he asked Gwen.

“This is Merlin,” Gwen said, slipping past Merlin and heading over to her brother. “He’s helping Arthur.”

“Hi Merlin,” Elyan raised a hand briefly in greeting, then directed a questioning look at Arthur. “Is this why you’ve not been at work?”

“It’s a long story,” Arthur assured him. “But in short yes. Merlin may be our key to ending the Du Bois problem. I probably won’t be around that much in the next week or so. Do you think you can manage?”

Elyan scoffed at the very idea. “Did you go somewhere already this week? I didn’t notice!”

“Cheek.”

“Yeah, look, it’s about time you took some actual time off. I should have known you’d still be working in some way. Take a break, Arthur. An actual one, after whatever it is you’re doing. I can manage. You must be due months. Even your father takes a break sometimes.”

Arthur was only half-listening. Merlin was wandering around the lab, poking at things and then picking up a robot hand and turning it over, examining it. 

“Don’t damage that,” Arthur warned. 

Merlin quickly put it back down on the desk he’d taken it from. But being Merlin, somehow he missed the desk and it went clattering onto the floor. 

“Whoops.”

“Do you know how much that’s worth?” Arthur growled at him.

Merlin scrambled to pick up the hand and place it carefully back on the table, giving it a little stroke for good measure.

“It’s worth very little,” Gwen told him kindly. “If it’s detached like that and not hooked up to all kinds of sensors then they’ve finished testing it and it doesn’t matter what you do to it. Take no notice of him, Merlin. And Gaius’ office is just over there.” She favoured both Arthur and Elyan with a disapproving frown. “You just call me if you need anything, Merlin, or if these two give you any grief. You know where my office is, and you’ve got my number, yes?”

Merlin beamed at her. “Thanks Gwen.”

“I’m your brother,” Elyan grumbled, but Gwen just patted his arm in mock sympathy and swept past him, showing Merlin to Gaius’ door. 

Arthur went with them, curious as to what Merlin wanted with Gaius. 

“I don’t suppose I’m going to have a proper explanation?” Elyan asked, following him. 

“Watch _The Monmouth Report_ on Friday,” Arthur advised. 

“Order us a takeaway this evening, I’ll come over and tell you all about what’s happening,” Gwen added. “And don’t order from that greasy place round the corner either.”

It didn’t appease Elyan. If anything he appeared even more interested and stood at Arthur’s side when Gwen tapped on the office door then opened it. Merlin went straight in.

“Gaius, how can we get rid of any clone programming left in me?” Merlin demanded. 

“Nice to see you too, Merlin,” Gaius murmured.

“Clone programming? Is he a clone?” Elyan asked, but Gwen shook her head and shushed him.

“Oh come down to my office for a cup of tea, I’ll explain,” she told Elyan, hustling him away. She called back to Merlin, “Merlin, I’ll see you later.”

Merlin turned to nod politely to her, then his attention was back fully on Gaius. 

“So do you know? It’s still affecting me, I need to get rid of it.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow at him. “Merlin, I work on machines, not living creatures. I don’t know enough about clones to tell what might have been programmed in and what hasn’t been. I am not going to pretend that I’m not absolutely fascinated, and that I wouldn’t like to know more. Though I suspect I would feel repulsed fairly early on and not wish to continue.”

“But I need to get it out of me!” Merlin cried. “There must be something you can do.”

Gaius shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, my boy. But your magic has been healing you, hasn’t it?”

Merlin looked as if he might cry. “Not fast enough. And not all of it.”

Arthur glanced back to see whether Gwen and Elyan had gone. They were out of sight but he didn’t want to risk them overhearing Merlin’s particular problem with the programming so he stepped inside Gaius’ office and closed the door behind him.

“If you speak to Merlin in a different language then he’ll start to reply in that language. He can stop himself but not before a few words have come out. And there are a few other things as well, usually just a quick reaction to food that could be better seasoned or something. That’s not the worst of it though.” He turned to Merlin. “Do you want to tell him?”

“No I don’t,” Merlin grumbled. “Would you?”

“Okay,” Arthur was a bit surprised but went for it. “Well, it’s sort of a private thing,” he began. “Merlin can’t…”

“No!” Merlin squawked. “I meant would you want to tell him if it was you! Arthur!”

Gaius regarded them both for a moment, then nodded to himself. “Sit down, gentlemen,” he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, and settled himself in the larger and more comfortable chair behind it. “Now, am I to assume that this is something of a sexual nature?”

Merlin blushed a furious shade of red and wouldn’t look at either of them. “Yes,” he muttered. “Or a lack of. Like that’s still dead.”

Gaius nodded sadly. “You poor boy.”

“I don’t want that on the TV!” Merlin scowled. “I don’t want people knowing.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Gaius assured him. “But isn’t there something that is sent out with clones, just the same as with our machines? An activation code?”

“I’m not using that on Merlin!” Arthur insisted.

“Quite right,” Gaius agreed. “We have no idea how it could affect the healing process. Merlin, my dear boy, I can’t imagine how distressing this must be for you, but I do believe your magic will heal that just as it’s protected the rest of you. And I was thinking earlier about your magic. You said the other day that you’re completely untrained?”

“Yes. I was born with it.”

“Then we should start working on strengthening and improving. It can only help with the healing process. I trained at Tintagel University, the magic department at the time was quite extensive even though most of us were there to study a different subject. I learned a great deal. Wherever you end up studying, Merlin, make sure you choose a university with a decent magic department.”

“I was going to Camelot University, I had a place. And I was going to study magical medicine, so training my magic would have been a huge part of it.”

“The study of magical medicine will be completely turned on its head once the world hears what’s been happening at Du Bois,” Gaius mused. “You’ll be such a large part of that, Merlin.”

“I’ll be their very own show and tell,” Merlin grumbled. “Fun. Can’t wait for that.”

“Are you still going to go to Camelot, if you can?” Arthur asked.

Camelot University wasn’t difficult to get to from Arthur’s flat. There was a bus stop just around the corner. Arthur tried not to think about the possibilities. Merlin would want to go home when this was over, and if he came back to Camelot to study he would probably want to go and live on campus and be as normal as possible. 

“I can’t think about that now,” Merlin told him. “It could be years before this is all sorted out fully.”

“In the meantime, you need to start working on your magic,” Gaius decided. “Obviously you have an extremely strong natural gift, but you need to start honing it. Like any other skill, practicing it will improve and strengthen it. I suspect that will be the key to flushing out any remaining clone programming from your system.”

“And you’ll teach me?” Merlin asked hopefully. “Really?”

“I would be happy to,” Gaius assured him. “It’s been years since I used my magic for anything other than work. It would be good to go back to basics, dust off a few of the old magic books and start to diversify a bit.”

“You have actual magic books?” Merlin exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“I have a small library. We’ll start with the easier ones. I don’t want you ending up turning Arthur into a frog or something, then needing me to fix it.”

“Think it’s a kiss that breaks that particular spell,” Merlin said, his eyes soft when he turned to look at Arthur.

“Well then you’d definitely better be careful,” Gaius tutted as he got up and tottered over to a bookcase on the far side of his office. “I’m certainly not kissing Arthur! Even if he’s a frog. I believe that’s what you call _gross_!”

Merlin laughed, and Arthur couldn’t help joining in.

“I’d rather not be a frog,” he admitted.

Arthur was still having a little trouble accepting that Gaius, whom he’d known all his life, was a magic user. Somehow Merlin had been easy enough to believe. But with Gaius it was different.

The old man was coming back with a couple of books in his hands. They looked as if they’d been printed in recent years. One was even a paperback. He handed that one to Merlin, who gazed at it in dismay.

“ _Basic Spells_. This isn’t a proper magic book,” Merlin protested. “This is one of those books people buy thinking they can learn magic without actually having any. It probably tells you things like to feed someone a few drops of blood at midnight in the darkling woods to bind them to you forever!”

“Have you tried that?” Arthur asked, laughing.

“No, but I bet you have!” Merlin accused. “I remember these from school, kids used to pretend they were magic users and do spells. Me and Will would scare them sometimes by using my magic to make things go wrong. They’d think they had actually performed magic but done it wrong. It was really funny.”

“Did this Will person have magic?” Gaius enquired, settling back into his chair.

“No,” Arthur answered before Merlin could. “Definitely not.”

“Pardon me, Arthur, but I’m not certain you’re the best person to spot these things. You seemed at least surprised to find that I had some magic despite knowing me all your life.”

“Will doesn’t have magic,” Merlin put in quickly. “But he knows about mine. He had one of these books at one time. We did look through it. The spells didn’t work.”

“I would imagine not,” Gaius commented, one eyebrow raised quizzically. “But this isn’t the same. It’s called hiding in plain sight. That quite innocuous tome in your hands would go quite unnoticed for the very reasons you’ve described. And it does only have the most basic of spells in it. It’s more a piece on magical theory, a little light reading for you. This one is a different matter,” he held up the older hardback book that he was still carrying. “We should go through this one very carefully.”

Merlin looked hopefully at the other book. It was brown and tatty, and had long-since lost its cover. “Can I borrow that one as well?”

“No. I’m not going to be responsible for you burning Arthur’s flat down. So, let’s make a start on your training.”

Arthur was quite interested to see what learning about magic entailed. He sat up, expectant.

“Arthur,” Gaius began, giving him a tight smile. “I know you’ll be dying to get back to work. Before you go could you pop along and get us a couple of coffees? We’ll be a while...”

\---

Merlin loved studying with Gaius.

Never before had he been able to sit down and actually talk to a fellow magic user about what he was and wasn’t doing. Gaius might have claimed that he’d forgotten half of what he’d learned years ago, but that turned out to not be the case at all. Soon enough he had Merlin trying out all sorts of things. What had always come naturally and perhaps rather haphazardly suddenly had the potential to become organised and sophisticated. 

Merlin had a long way to go before that, but after many hours in Gaius’ office he felt they were really making progress. Only when Gwen stuck her head round the door and told Gaius his wife wanted to know if he was ever coming home did they call a halt to things.

It was nearly 8pm by then.

“Now remember, Merlin,” Gaius instructed as he packed up his bag ready to leave. “Don’t try anything we haven’t worked on yet. Read ahead but do _not_ try any new spells. You’ve got plenty to keep you busy, just work on strengthening and everything else will follow. You can come in here every day if you like, and we can keep working on it.”

“Don’t you have any work of your own to do?” Arthur asked. He’d come in after Gwen had effectively shut them down for the day. “Is this what happens in here with the door shut? You’re just reading magic books instead of your actual job?” He was smiling as he said it, so Merlin supposed Gaius wasn’t in trouble. Although of course Gaius might be Arthur’s boss, Merlin wasn’t quite sure.

“This is my work,” Gaius told him. “Studying clones, your father set me onto it months ago. I didn’t think it would be anything like this, obviously. But yes, I’m working. How about you, Arthur? Have you sorted out that malfunctioning arm yet?”

“Elyan found the problem,” Arthur said. “And yes, I’ve been working hard. Merlin, are you ready to go? Your mum’s probably wondering where we are.”

Merlin hadn’t brought anything much with him, but had a whole backpack full of things to take home. He swung the pack up over one shoulder as he got to his feet.

“Thanks Gaius! That was _brilliant!_ ”

“Well, it helps to have a talented pupil eager to learn. You’ve done very well, Merlin. Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow. Perhaps I can find some of my old notes at home tonight and bring those in.”

“Assuming you’ve still got a home to go to,” Gwen pointed out. “Alice didn’t sound very happy. I think your dinner might be in the cat!”

“Nonsense. We don’t have a cat.” Nonetheless, Gaius started to pack his bag a great deal faster. “But I’ll see you all tomorrow, goodnight!”

Apparently he could move quite quickly when he needed to. Gwen smiled after him, then held the door open for Merlin and Arthur. 

“Come on you two, hometime. Unless you want to come over and spend the evening with me and my ridiculous brother? I’ve had to spend most of the afternoon persuading him not to come in and ask Merlin a million questions. Honestly, you two owe me one.”

“He could have asked me,” Arthur said. 

“You’re his boss,” Gwen pointed out. “And you’re also not recently back from the dead, now are you?”

“Could be,” Merlin quipped. “Come on, Merlin and Arthur, he could be the once and future king! Where are you hiding your crown?”

“You’re hilarious,” Arthur told him.

“Yes I am, your majesty.”

“Merlin…”

“Perhaps I’ll just leave you both to it,” Gwen decided, walking towards the lift with them both. “But really, Elyan has so many questions. I’m surprised there’s not a nose-print on the door to Gaius’ office, he was that interested. Every time he thought you weren’t around he was right there, hovering outside.”

“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Arthur promised. “He knows he can’t say anything to anyone until the show goes out, right?”

“You even have to ask?”

Arthur nodded. “He’s a good man, I know he’ll be discreet. But he should have just spoken to me if he had questions. I’m not my father!”

Merlin glanced up at the clock above the lift doors. “Talking of whom, Gwen, why are you still here? Surely they don’t make you work this late?”

Gwen gave Arthur a pointed look, which told Merlin all he needed to know about that. To be fair, he’d heard Arthur protesting to Uther about contacting Gwen out of hours a few nights back. 

“My father thinks that if we are employed then we should be available 24-7,” Arthur explained. “It shows commitment to the company. Gwen suffers from this more than most because she’s his personal assistant.”

“This is actually me leaving relatively early,” Gwen added.

Merlin made a mental note never to work for Uther Pendragon. He wasn’t sure why Gwen did. She was sweet and kind and funny, and obviously incredibly good at her job. 

“You could have your pick of companies to work for,” he pointed out. “Why stay?”

“Merlin!” Arthur protested.

“The money is very, very good,” Gwen admitted. “Uther knows he’s a terrible person to work for and gives bonuses accordingly. He likes the fact I can think for myself and don’t keep asking him everything. I know exactly what he will and won’t agree to and have a great deal of autonomy. Everyone prefers to contact the company via me. Uther only _thinks_ he’s in charge here most of the time. Besides, he’s already given me an assistant and I’m in the process of persuading him I need another one. I spent most of this afternoon having coffee with my brother in my office and doing no work at all. I’m not going anywhere thank you very much!”

Merlin glanced at Arthur concernedly. “Aren’t you worried that Arthur will tell his father all this?”

Gwen just snorted with laughter at that. “No,” she said. “Arthur would never do that.”

And of course Merlin already knew that. His kind, honourable Arthur would fight for people to keep their jobs, not be the cause of unemployment. 

“We like it under Gwen’s rule,” Arthur confirmed. “Come on, Merlin, you’ve met my father. We all stick together against his wrath! Oh!” he started patting his pockets, then searching through his bag. “I think I left my phone on my desk. Back in a minute.”

Merlin watched him go, a fond half-smile on his face. Then he realised that Gwen was watching him in turn, a knowing smile playing about her lips.

“What?”

“Oh, I think we both know what, Merlin,” Gwen smiled. “And I’m happy to see it. God knows Arthur deserves to have someone look at him like that. His father’s always been far too hard on him. Nothing Arthur does is ever good enough.”

“Arthur’s perfect,” Merlin told her.

“Nobody’s perfect, and he can be a little shit when he wants to be. But he has a kind heart. And he cares for you, I can tell. I’ve been watching him today. You’ve been too busy with Gaius to notice, but Arthur’s always stayed just outside, close by. I haven’t seen him like this before, he’s always only been interested in his work. I was starting to worry he’d never find anyone. Sometimes he seems so alone, especially when his father’s giving him a hard time. And now there’s you.”

“We’re not together like that.” Merlin definitely didn’t want to tell Gwen why. It was horrendous enough Gaius and Arthur knowing about _that_.

“You will be. But one thing you need to know Merlin – you hurt him and you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

“And you rule Pendragon, I know,” Merlin replied lightly. He was touched by Gwen’s concern though. She had been so kind to him earlier, and seemed like the sort of person whose judgement would never be suspect. If she thought well of Arthur then it just reinforced everything that Merlin had decided about him for himself.

“Just remember that,” she told him, laughing. “Ah here he is. Did you find it, Arthur?”

Arthur held up his phone. “It was on my desk, like I thought. And your mother’s left a message, Merlin. She’s cooking dinner and wants us back there.”

They said their farewells to Gwen, and hurried back to Arthur’s flat where they were greeted by an enthusiastic Aithusa. The little dog had been banished from the kitchen while Hunith was cooking and was clearly in need of entertainment. 

Arthur was happy to be that entertainment, throwing a ball down the hallway for Aithusa to chase after, then when he was bored with that he started trying to teach Aithusa to roll over. Merlin wished him all the luck in the world with that one. They had just about managed to teach Aithusa to sit and stay, anything else had always been met with a stubborn refusal from the dog. 

And yet, Aithusa was actually responding to Arthur. Merlin sat in one of the armchairs in the living room, messaging Will and watching Arthur and Aithusa. Admittedly all that was being achieved so far was for Aithusa to lie down and then turn his head slightly towards the treat Arthur was holding, but it was more than Merlin had ever managed. He took a quick snap and sent it to Will.

“Aithusa’s leaving me for Arthur.”

“Bloody tart,” came the reply. 

“Which one?”

“Both of them. Tell me you’re not shagging him, Merlin. Gwaine’s convinced you are. Won’t shut up about it.”

“I’m not shagging him.”

“Do you want to?”

Merlin glanced over at Arthur to check he was still engrossed in teaching Aithusa. “Who wouldn’t?”

“I bloody wouldn’t for one. Too posh.”

“He’s been really kind.”

“Remember that when he’s fucking you into his posh mattress with his posh dick slumming it up your peasant arse!”

“Will!” Merlin cupped his hand over the top of the phone. Arthur couldn’t possibly see from where he was but Merlin wasn’t going to risk it. One thing though, it did sound as if Will and Gwaine were getting on a bit better. “What’s up with you and Gwaine? Sounds cosy.”

It didn’t sound anything of the sort, but Merlin knew exactly how to distract Will from an uncomfortable subject.

“Shut up! Yuck! No, I’m off to all the men and women of Cardiff at the weekend. Lucky people!”

“Going to give Gwaine a farewell shag?”

“Definitely not. Still pining over you.”

Merlin knew Will didn’t mean he himself was pining over Merlin. Merlin felt bad about Gwaine. He’d hoped Gwaine would move on quickly. 

“It wasn’t even one date.”

“Think it was more about seeing you with Posh Arthur. He’ll get over it.”

Merlin hoped so. He changed the subject quickly, telling Will about the magic lessons from Gaius. Really, he wanted to call and talk to Will properly, but his old friend couldn’t be trusted not to say something insulting or embarrassing that Arthur might hear.

Out in the kitchen he could faintly hear his mother singing. It was an old familiar sound, the way she sang when she worked. Hunith wasn’t a great singer but she wasn’t a bad one either. She sang when she was happy.

Merlin wondered how long it had been since she had been happy. Probably not since he died.

“My sister used to like that song your mum’s singing,” Arthur commented from the other side of the room. He was still intent on training Aithusa and barely glanced at Merlin. Aithusa had progressed to lying out flat. It was quite depressing how quickly Arthur was achieving obedience.

“Popular,” Merlin agreed. He listened, then remembered where else he had heard it.

It was the same song that he had heard a female singing while they trapped by Du Bois. 

That didn’t mean it was Morgana he had heard. It could have been anyone, and just a coincidence. If he told Arthur then it would raise Arthur’s hopes, probably for nothing. He would want to see for himself.

The last thing Merlin wanted was for Arthur to be at risk in that horrible place. What if they caught him, made a clone and put that back in the world in Arthur’s place? He couldn’t risk Arthur for something that almost certainly wouldn’t be Morgana anyway. Morgana had died several years before. She wouldn’t still be alive. People went through Du Bois quickly, wiped clean and sold on. It wouldn’t be her. It couldn’t be. And Merlin wasn’t going to put Arthur at risk for something that wasn’t even true.

Merlin sat in his chair, messaging Will. And said nothing.

\---


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur took Merlin back to Pendragon Robotics in the morning.

Merlin had spent most of dinner the previous evening trying out little magic tricks he had learnt with Gaius. Arthur tried not to flinch when he saw the salt and pepper pots levitated across the table towards him. Hunith seemed quite delighted with it, but then she’d had many years to get used to Merlin’s magic. Although Arthur was fascinated by it, he wasn’t quite at the stage where he felt comfortable seeing it performed. Merlin was so proud of what he’d learned to do though, Arthur didn’t have the heart to ask him to stop. And it was pretty amazing. If he was like that after just one day then he would probably be spectacular in a few weeks. 

And hopefully it would get stronger and heal Merlin’s physical problem. Because Arthur was already pretty fed up with that.

Really it had been a bad idea to start sleeping with Merlin. It was horribly frustrating for both of them, although Merlin didn’t have the awkwardness of spending half the night with a hard-on for a partner that it just wouldn’t be right to have sex with in Merlin’s current condition. Being with Arthur seemed to stop the nightmares Merlin had been having though. That made everything worth it. 

Luckily Merlin had fallen asleep very quickly, exhausted from all the magic training that day. That didn’t seem to stop him tossing and turning most of the night. Merlin didn’t appear to be in any distress from the recurring nightmares. He was just one of those people who couldn’t keep still, Arthur supposed. Cuddling up to him seemed to help, but then Arthur had to contend with the physical proximity, and how much he wanted Merlin. And as had happened the previous morning, when Arthur awoke Merlin had already got up. He could hear the shower going, and Merlin’s off-key singing.

Arthur palmed his morning erection through his shorts, wondering if he had time to rub one out before Merlin finished in the en suite. Probably not, he supposed. He hoped that wasn’t why Merlin had got out of bed early but guessed it probably was. Arthur would just have to wait for his own turn in the shower.

It was awkward. And there were no signs of the situation improving.

They stayed at Pendragon for most of the day. As had been the case the previous day, Arthur didn’t see much of Merlin because he was holed up with Gaius. He did see Elyan though. Gwen was right, her brother did have a lot of questions, and once he realised Arthur didn’t mind answering them, those questions were endless. Arthur was fairly sure they’d done pretty much no work at all and spent most of the day sitting in the kitchen area with coffees.

Elyan really did have an enquiring mind.

“Is his heart beating?”

“Yes. He’s not a clone and even if he was, clones are alive.”

“And breathing?”

“Again, alive.”

“So have you given him a scan to see whether there’s any circuitry in there?”

“He’s a human being.”

“But you say Du Bois programmed him. So, how do we know he hasn’t got some sort of motherboard in there and that’s what’s making him tick?”

“He’s not a machine. They used magic to revive him.”

“So you haven’t scanned him?”

Arthur didn’t want to. It would be like questioning Merlin’s sentience. But Elyan did have a useful point – one he wouldn’t even realise he was making. What if it wasn’t just magic? What if there was some sort of physical device in his brain, keeping him alive? It was a delicate subject to raise and Arthur knew that if he did then it would simply worry Merlin further.

And what if they did scan, and found something? He wasn’t sure how Merlin would cope.

“He’s not a machine,” was all Arthur said. 

Thankfully Elyan got distracted by a call at that point, and when he started asking questions again it was all about the differences between Merlin and the clones Arthur had met at the business function a week or so earlier, and how he’d known Merlin wasn’t a typical clone.

Still, the idea of something physical having been put into Merlin’s head made a lot of sense. Arthur wondered whether, if anything was there, extracting it would help him or destroy him? It wouldn’t be worth the risk to find out.

Merlin emerged from Gaius’ office for a late lunch, happy and excited about his progress. Arthur didn’t have the heart to repeat Elyan’s questions. Not that he needed to because Elyan had even more questions for Merlin himself. Tactless ones, as it turned out.

“So, when you died, do you think you went anywhere? I mean, do you remember? Some people say they remember things when they’ve been resuscitated.”

“I don’t remember,” Merlin told him. “I didn’t go to the light, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Merlin’s still traumatised,” Arthur put in quickly before Elyan could come up with anything else even worse. “You know, because of the whole _dying_ thing?”

“I was just asking.”

“Ask something else.”

“Do you remember being buried?” Elyan asked, munching on a packet of crisps.

“Something not about death.”

“I don’t remember anything after drowning, and before waking up in Du Bois’ laboratories,” Merlin told him. “And drowning is not a good way to go, before you ask.”

That did at least stop Elyan’s questions. At least until Merlin had gone back to Gaius, and he started interrogating Arthur again.

“He’s completely human. It’s incredible.”

“I know.”

“You really should get him to do that scan. If they’ve done something that realistic with robotics, we need to know about it. We’ll be left behind.”

Arthur sighed. He wished Gwen hadn’t persuaded her brother that Arthur wasn’t as scary as his father, and that he should ask his boss whatever he wanted. Sometimes a bit of fear was useful.

And then, late in the afternoon, just as Arthur was thinking about going home early to escape all the questions, Leon called.

“Come down to my flat. Bring Merlin.”

It would have been pleasant to start with hello. But Leon often got really wound up right before a show and social niceties went right out of the window.

“Yes, I’m fine Leon, thank you for asking. How are you?” Arthur replied sarcastically.

“Busy,” Leon told him. “We’ve bought that Mordred clone and he’s just been delivered. He’s weird, not like Merlin at all. I want Merlin to meet him, see whether it’s definitely the same person.”

Merlin most likely wouldn’t be very pleased to be dragged away from his magic lessons. But he’d want to be there to see Mordred, Arthur was sure of that.

“We’ll be over in 30,” Arthur promised, and rang off. Elyan hovered nearby, interested again.

“What did Leon want?”

Arthur thought about lying to him, because Elyan’s interest in the clones was getting a bit obsessive. If he couldn’t study Merlin because Arthur wouldn’t let him then he was likely to want to look at Mordred instead. 

If Mordred was the same as Merlin then he’d already been through more than enough trauma. Not that Elyan would mean to traumatise him further, but being treated like a lab rat would be dehumanising to someone who probably already felt most of their humanity had been stripped away.

Then again, Elyan was a brilliant robotics engineer and might well find something inspiring in it all. 

But not today.

“He’s found what might be another person like Merlin,” Arthur told him. “We’re going over to see. Merlin identified him as a person who had fought against what was being done to them.”

“Can I come? I’d be interested to see him.”

“Not this time. If he’s what we think then the fewer the better. Why don’t you get a regular clone? One of that George line, or a Chloe, or a Sam. They’re very popular, apparently. There were hundreds made of the same models. If there’s any circuitry at all then it’ll be in those. And they’re the cheapest because they’re mass produced, you could charge it to our budget and nobody would know.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. But treat the one you get well. We’re also trying to show that even the mass-produced ones have feelings and should have rights. So no cutting their head open or anything.”

“Just scans and tests,” Elyan promised. “It’ll be fine.”

Arthur hoped so. 

\---

Mordred was not how Merlin remembered him.

The clone standing in Leon’s flat looked emotionless, almost blank. His hair was shorter than Merlin recalled, smoothed down and neatly cut. He wore the plain uniform that the clones were delivered in. Merlin wasn’t sure what had happened to the one he himself had arrived in. Arthur had insisted on buying him new clothes, and those were what he wore. He would have liked his own clothes from Ealdor, but of course his mother had given them to charity long since. Nobody could blame her for that. 

Leon seemed relieved when he let Arthur, Merlin and Gaius in. Gaius had wanted to come along, and as it seemed a good idea Arthur didn’t object. 

“He’s quite intense,” Leon warned. “The way he stares at you is disconcerting. But there’s no sign that he’s not exactly what Du Bois advertise. He made me a coffee, and he’s cleaned the kitchen. He just responds with automatic lines when I ask questions about him.”

Gaius regarded Mordred for a moment, then walked around him in a slow circle, taking in every angle.

“What do you call yourself?” Gaius asked.

“I am Byron 163 of Du Bois Inc. How may I help you?”

Merlin thought that Mordred’s speech was smoother than his own had been. There wasn’t the same hesitation in his voice, the tiny things that would have given Merlin away if people had known what to look for. Doubtless Mordred had given Leon the full spiel about guarantees and programming and whatever else it had been.

Merlin had forgotten most of it. Arthur had tried speaking to him in French again earlier and Merlin had managed to reply in English. So that was a definite step forward, even if it wasn’t the thing he wanted healed the most. He supposed that if Arthur tried the speech with Mordred then there would be a seamless response in perfect French. 

Perhaps it wasn’t even Mordred? Perhaps they’d made a clone of him and that was what stood in Leon’s living room.

“Merlin,” Gaius said. “Why don’t you try?”

Merlin had been hanging back a little, strangely nervous about seeing Mordred again. He’d just stood there, pretending not to be sentient, while Mordred had been dragged screaming out of the lab at Du Bois. But Merlin couldn’t have helped him, and if he’d tried then it would only have hurt himself. Merlin would have joined Mordred in whatever fate he had suffered, and perhaps would never have known Arthur.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, and Merlin realised that he’d been just standing there even after Gaius’ suggestion.

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself!” Arthur quipped back. It was weak but it served the purpose. Merlin smiled and relaxed very slightly, then stepped up to Mordred.

“Hello Mordred,” he said carefully. “Do you remember me?”

There was the very slightest flicker of _something_ in Mordred’s eyes at the sound of his name, and then it was gone. Merlin was sure he didn’t imagine it.

“I am Byron 163. We have not met on any previous occasion.”

Merlin glanced at Gaius, biting his lip. He wasn’t sure how much more he should reveal to Mordred. What if genuine clones could send information back to their makers? But if he didn’t and the real Mordred was in there, hiding and afraid just as Merlin had been then they would never know. “We met at Du Bois.”

Again there was something, just a slight twitch of Mordred’s eyebrow, just for a moment.

“I do not recall you.”

“What do you remember from being at Du Bois? Do you remember the people who created you?” Gaius asked.

Mordred paused for a moment. If he hadn’t been looking for it Merlin didn’t think he’d have noticed.

“I do not recall anything from that time. I am Byron 163 of Du Bois Inc. Programming options loaded are: home help standard package including full chef services; secretarial services; teaching from pre-school to post-graduate level options; full childcare package; translation…”

Merlin was familiar with the spiel. He’d spouted most of it himself, completely involuntarily, in the factory. But it had been more difficult to reel it off once he’d arrived at Arthur’s place. Already his magic had been starting to heal him.

“… an additional fee. Adult mode is locked under a safeguarding key which you will find…”

Arthur had Merlin’s safeguarding key somewhere. Perhaps if things didn’t improve it would be worth the risk?

Mordred/Byron was going on and on, not faltering for a moment. 

Leon regarded him thoughtfully. “He said all this when he first arrived. Word for word, as far as I recall.”

“Merlin sort of said the same thing,” Arthur recalled. “But he botched it. It wasn’t clear and precise like this.”

“…Du Bois Inc assures you that you will be completely satisfied with your near-human clone for many years to come,” Mordred finished, then fell silent.

“So is he like Merlin or is he a regular clone?” Leon asked. “I can’t put him on the show like this, it wouldn’t help the cause at all.”

“I don’t think this young man is ready to be paraded around,” Gaius told him. “This isn’t just about your ratings, Leon. If Byron here…”

“Mordred,” Merlin reminded him. “His name is Mordred.”

Mordred/Byron didn’t look at him, just kept staring straight ahead. That in itself was odd. Clones were supposed to be animated, eager to please. Merlin could remember the urge to do so. His magic had wiped that out fairly quickly, but it had been there. 

“Mordred,” Arthur began, “do you…”

“I am Byron 163 of Du Bois Inc. How can I assist you?”

Merlin thought he could see the strain around Mordred’s eyes. The man still wouldn’t look at them. 

“It’s like a captured soldier quoting name rank and serial number,” Leon commented. “Mordred, you don’t have to be afraid of us. We want to help you.”

But Mordred was afraid, Merlin could tell. He wasn’t going to tell them anything, and Merlin thought he knew why.

“He thinks it’s a trick, that we’re testing him. That’s right, isn’t it?” Merlin asked Mordred. He didn’t actually expect a reply and duly didn’t get one. “You think we’re from Du Bois. You think this is the final part of your testing and that if you fail it there’s going to be another attempt at a mind wipe and more pain.”

Still Mordred did not respond. His breathing had quickened slightly, but that was all.

“It will take time to gain trust,” Gaius pointed out. 

“I only found out because Merlin tried to escape,” Arthur said. “Although I’d suspected something was up because he was a terrible servant.”

“Mordred,” Gaius attempted, “why don’t you go and make us some tea.”

“I am Byron 163…”

“Yes, yes, of course you are. _Byron_ , please make us all tea and biscuits.”

Mordred hurried off to the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

“Couldn’t get away fast enough,” Arthur commented. He sat down on Leon’s sofa, Leon sitting beside him and Gaius taking one of the armchairs. Merlin remained standing. He wanted to follow Mordred to the kitchen but wasn’t sure that would help matters.

“He’s scared,” Merlin insisted. “I was too. I thought you were going to send me back for being faulty.”

“You _are_ faulty. Worst home help ever!” Arthur pointed out, smiling fondly at him. Merlin couldn’t help giving a small smile back. But he really just wanted to go out and talk to Mordred. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone else living in so much misery and fear.

“So you think he’s this Mordred?” Leon queried. “Even though he’s answering as if he’s a clone? He’s definitely been more hesitant in his replies since you arrived.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the amazing journalist?” Arthur asked him teasingly. “Shouldn’t you be able to tell when someone’s hiding something?”

“Just seeing whether Merlin is as intuitive as I am! If he is, maybe I’ll take him on as an assistant or something if he’s good enough at picking up on emotions. I could do with the help, these shows are getting bigger every week.”

It was true. Leon was very popular. “Mum would love it if I did that,” Merlin told him. “She loves your show.”

“Your mum is a lady of great taste.”

Arthur pouted sulkily at them both. “She likes me too. And Merlin’s going to be a doctor, he’ll have a proper career at the end of this, not eye candy on some TV show.”

“You’re saying I’m eye candy?” Leon grinned.

“Compared to your co-host. No offence, Gaius,” Arthur added quickly. “We know you two are _good friends_!”

Gaius rolled his eyes, not impressed by the teasing. “What an idiot you are sometimes, Arthur. Merlin, please either sit down or go talk to Mordred. He might respond to you alone. But for goodness sake don’t just stand there hovering around. And please don’t leave me with these two fools for long. My brain cells deteriorate.”

“You never answered my question,” Leon said quickly. “Merlin, what did you think?”

Merlin nodded agreement. “I think the same as you. He’s definitely giving guarded responses, and he looks terrified. I’ll go and talk to him. Or try to. There’s no reason for him to remember me. I was quiet when he started kicking off. Just another blank face, unmemorable.”

“Be careful, Merlin,” Arthur warned. “If he’s frightened enough there’s no telling what he might do. Keep the door open so we can hear that you’re okay.”

Arthur would probably stand outside that door protectively, Merlin knew. It was reassuring to know he was cared for, but it wouldn’t make Mordred feel any more at ease. So Merlin smiled and agreed, and then closed the kitchen door behind him anyway.

Mordred was standing in the kitchen gazing out of the window. Leon lived in a spacious apartment in a nice area, but the view was hardly spectacular. Even in Arthur’s apartment, with a park opposite, there wasn’t much to look at. Not like at home in Ealdor.

Mordred hadn’t even started making the tea. That was proof in itself, really. He startled when Merlin came in, and quickly began to busy himself opening the cupboards and bringing out cups.

“I will not take long, Sir. Please go and relax with your friends.”

The kitchen was slightly smaller than Arthur’s but there was still plenty of room for Merlin to stand there leaning against the countertop without getting in Mordred’s way. “It’s okay, I wanted to talk to you some more.”

“As you wish, Sir.”

Again there was that slight hesitation before Mordred spoke. The words were polite, yet Merlin was sure that they were not anything other than a carefully constructed façade. 

“I was purchased from Du Bois as a unique clone, just as you have been. And like you, I have magic, and that magic protected me when they tried to wipe me. Leon bought you because I recognised you in the catalogue. We hoped that we might be able to help you, like Arthur has helped me.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Mordred had been purchased by Leon’s production company in the hope that he would further their sensational story. But Leon seemed to be a good man, he was Arthur’s best friend after all. Merlin was confident that Mordred was in safe hands and that Leon wouldn’t just abandon him once the story was over. 

Still, Mordred was not responding to what Merlin was telling him, just standing there looking out of the window. 

“Are you able to answer me?” Merlin asked. “Ah but if there are restrictions then you wouldn’t be able to tell me, would you. Can you try tapping a response, one tap for yes, two for no?”

Mordred froze then with what seemed a great effort, tapped his finger once on the countertop.

Merlin felt like crying with relief. He wasn’t the only one who had survived.

“You’re in there!”

Another single tap.

“Do you remember me?”

Two taps. 

“Fair enough, I didn’t really expect you to. I’d learned to keep quiet by the time I saw you. I wasn’t going to let them know they’d failed a second time.”

Mordred responded with three taps in quick succession. 

“Three… did they do that to you three times?”

One tap.

Merlin didn’t want to know the answer to the next question, but he couldn’t help himself. “Three times after the first time you’d woken up?”

One tap. 

“I’m so sorry.”

That explained why the restrictions were so strong, preventing him speaking freely. His magic had to be quite powerful though. Or perhaps they were all slowly waking up. Perhaps many were waking up to a cruel owner who didn’t care if they were sentient or not.

“Do you have family or friends that we can contact?”

Two taps. 

“That’s a shame. Seeing my mum again really helped me.” 

It was hard thinking of questions that he could get a yes or no response to. But there was someone in the next room who was an expert in asking questions.

“Mordred, would you be willing to talk to the others? Arthur and Gaius have been so kind to me. Gaius is teaching me to use my magic properly, and that’s helping me heal faster. And Arthur’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. Leon’s his friend, they’re all trying to help us. Would you talk to them like this?”

Two taps. Merlin’s heart sank. Though it wasn’t completely unexpected. At least he would talk to Merlin.

“Is that all of them?”

Two taps. 

“Okay, that’s good. Who would you speak to? Leon?”

Again there were two knocks on the kitchen surface, and again when Merlin suggested Arthur. It turned out to be Gaius whom Mordred was willing to ‘speak’ to. The only one of the trio who hadn’t actually purchased a clone. Merlin suspected that it might also be due to the magic usage. One of his own kind. Merlin could understand that. It would take time for any of them to earn Mordred’s trust. Simply communicating with Merlin was a huge leap of faith in itself. And it was going to be so slow and frustrating if all they could ask were questions with yes and no as the answer.

Just then the kitchen door opened. Arthur stood there in the doorway, not coming in but obviously checking up on them.

“Everything okay, Merlin?”

“Yes, we’re just making tea,” Merlin replied. 

Mordred had already started busying himself with the cups again. 

“Mordred would prefer to just communicate with me and Gaius for now,” Merlin continued. 

Mordred shot him a worried glance. Merlin wasn’t sure whether that meant Mordred’s control over his body was returning, or whether he’d just been covering his reactions better out in the living room. 

“I have to tell Arthur and Leon what’s going on,” Merlin explained. “You _can_ trust them, but they’ll both understand that it’s going to take time. Okay?”

One tap.

“Thank you.”

“Is that how he’s communicating?” Arthur asked.

“Yes. Mordred can’t talk.”

Arthur frowned in disapproval, but didn’t comment. A moment later he turned and went back to the living room. 

“We’d better make them their tea,” Merlin smiled, hoping it looked less strained than it felt to him. He could hear Arthur talking to the others, explaining what was happening. Arthur’s disgust was plain in his voice. It worried Mordred, who kept shooting anxious glances towards the living room.

“It’s okay,” Merlin told him again. “Arthur’s angry on your behalf, not at you.”

That knowledge didn’t seem to relax Mordred at all. Merlin saw that his hands were shaking slightly as he picked up the kettle to fill. 

It was going to be a long, one-sided conversation. They were going to need more than tea. 

“Any idea where Leon keeps his biscuits?” Merlin asked.

And that, at least, Mordred could answer.

\---


	12. Chapter 12

By the time Arthur and Merlin got back to Arthur’s flat, night had long since fallen.

Hunith had gone to bed. She’d left the hall light on for them but she and Aithusa were shut away in the spare bedroom. Aithusa of course woke up – Arthur heard Hunith talking to him, trying to settle him back down again.

“Sorry Mum!” Merlin called. “We’ll be quiet!”

Arthur didn’t quite catch what Hunith replied, but Merlin laughed and called goodnight to her.

That soft, easy relationship that Merlin had with his mother was the thing Arthur envied most of all. He would have loved to have had that himself, someone who adored him, cared about him above all others. 

“We should have come back earlier, we woke her up,” Arthur whispered as they crept into the living room and closed the door behind them. 

“Aithusa woke her,” Merlin pointed out. “Don’t worry, it’s only ten-thirty, it’s not like we’ve snuck in at 3am!”

“Is that what you used to do?” Arthur asked, smiling. “Your poor mum. I’m going to ask her to adopt me instead and I’ll make a long, long list of my excellent mum-pleasing traits. Top of the list will be not coming in drunk at 3am!”

“Who says I was drunk?”

“I’ve met your mate Will!”

“Second will be not using my magic to steal from her handbag!”

“I was ten! Anyway, you don’t have any magic!”

“Third will be not having any magic to annoy her with!”

“She loves it.”

As Hunith had already told Arthur how much she’d worried about Merlin growing up with magic and how they’d tried to hide it from everyone, Arthur doubted very much that Hunith loved it and was quite sure that she would have preferred Merlin to be more ordinary. He let that one slide though, particularly as it was his magic that had saved Merlin.

“Fourth will be…”

“Fourth will be being a big clotpole, at which point she’ll just keep the son she’s got and be glad of it.”

“Clotpole? Did you make that up? It’s not even a word. What does it mean?”

“It means Arthur. I could think of other descriptions.” Merlin was heading into the bedroom. 

Arthur followed, secretly glad Merlin already felt comfortable enough to treat it as his bedroom too. He just wished things were different. The earlier worries that Merlin might still be heavily influenced by his clone programming were starting to fade. In most things, particularly where insulting Arthur were concerned, Merlin quite clearly knew his own mind and Arthur doubted that the growing relationship between them was anything other than genuine.

“So polite. I bet Mordred isn’t going to be this rude to Leon once he can talk again.”

“Probably not. He doesn’t seem to have anyone, Arthur. It’s so sad. I have Mum and Will and Gwaine.”

“And me,” Arthur reminded him. “You’ve got me. Even if you do think I’m a _clotpole_ or whatever that is.”

Merlin sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling sadly up at him. “I know. And for what it’s worth, Arthur, I don’t think you’re a clotpole or anything else like that, I think you’re brilliant. Amazing. Seeing Mordred… god, he can’t even talk to us. He went through that cleansing thing that they do _three times_! The pain just once was unbearable.”

Arthur had heard Merlin’s own recollection of the experience. It was the thing that caused the nightmares, as much as the memory of drowning. And that was after experiencing it once. Three times…

“He has all of us now,” Arthur reminded Merlin, sitting down next to him. “He’ll be okay.” He hoped that Mordred would, anyway. The journey seemed as if it would be longer for him than for Merlin. Merlin had people who loved him. Mordred, as Merlin said, seemed to have nobody. And he had grown more nervous and twitchy as the day had gone on. It was probably because he was slowly regaining control of his own body and the terrified creature beneath Du Bois’ restraints was starting to show through. He didn’t have enough control to be anything but harmless, and seemed to have got over his refusal to communicate with Leon and Arthur by the end of the day. And the restraints would stop him trying to harm Leon. But Arthur had advised Leon to lock his own bedroom door just in case. 

“I don’t know,” Merlin said with a sigh. “He seems so badly damaged.”

This from the man who needed to be held through the night to stop the bad dreams from overwhelming him. Arthur didn’t think of himself as a violent man but he didn’t think he would be able to restrain himself if he ran into his uncle any time in the near future. So cruel and heartless. No amount of money could possibly be worth the horror of what he and his company had done.

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Arthur promised. “For both of you, and everyone like you. Everyone we can find anyway.”

“Leon told me his people will be digging up my grave tomorrow,” Merlin told him in a small voice. “My _grave_ , Arthur. What if they find some clone of me in there? How would I ever prove it wasn’t me?”

“There’s no logical reason for that to happen,” Arthur assured him, putting an arm around Merlin and giving him a hug. “You said you heard them tell you that clones take too long to grow. They wouldn’t waste one like that. And Agravaine doesn’t know that they’re about to be exposed, so don’t worry.”

Merlin held him back for a few moments. Arthur could feel the tension in his slender frame. Then Merlin shifted his position, his face turning to seek out Arthur’s. 

This time Arthur accepted the kiss when it came, leaning into it and kissing Merlin back. There was no denying the mutual attraction, and the affection was growing stronger every day. Merlin gave a little moan of pleasure as Arthur gently guided the pair of them down onto the bed, Merlin on his back with Arthur ending up lying half over him on top of the covers.

“Arthur…” Merlin breathed as Arthur pulled back for a moment to whip his jacket off and throw it aside. “Don’t stop.”

Arthur just grinned at him and lay back down to take him in his arms and kiss him again. Merlin tasted faintly of the coffee they’d all been drinking back at Leon’s. It should have been champagne and strawberries, Arthur thought irrationally. Being with Merlin should be a celebration. It felt as if it should be and yet there was still that nagging little worry in the back of Arthur’s mind. 

“This is okay?” he checked, breaking off for a moment to gaze down at Merlin, resting one hand gently on Merlin’s stomach. “ _You’re_ okay?”

“More than okay,” Merlin assured him, guiding his hand down, helping Arthur untuck Merlin’s shirt and reach the skin beyond. “Keep going.”

Arthur’s own body wanted that, very much. There was no hiding his reaction, his cock straining against the restriction of his jeans. Merlin was there and assuring Arthur that he wanted him, so they could finally be able to be together. After seeing Mordred, Arthur wanted to forget as much as Merlin did. They both needed the relief, needed each other. And Merlin must have moved on with his own healing. All that practicing of his magic had fixed him…

Something touched him, warm and soft like an invisible caress. Arthur found his own shirt was suddenly undone, which made it very easy to slip out of it and throw it aside. 

“Did you just use magic on me?”

“Uh-huh,” Merlin grinned. “You like?”

Arthur liked. It was possibly a bit wrong that he liked being touched by Merlin’s magic so much. He could see it becoming a bit of a kink for him. Still, they had time to explore that. Years, maybe, if they were lucky.

“Do it again.”

Merlin obliged, and this time Arthur saw the flash of gold in his eyes. 

“Beautiful,” Arthur leaned in to kiss him again, feeling the warmth of Merlin’s skin against his own as they lay together. Merlin’s heart was racing, Arthur could feel it. He thought his own was probably matching it. “And it’s healed you… it’s wonderful…”

Merlin gazed back at him, and Arthur suddenly realised there was sadness in those eyes. His heart sank, knowing what Merlin was going to say even before he said it.

“I’m not fully healed. Things still aren’t working properly. But there’s sensation, more than there was. And I thought if we were together then it might help with that?”

Arthur gave a heavy sigh, but didn’t let go of Merlin. He wasn’t quite ready to. The disappointment was horrible. But there was no way he would have sex with Merlin, not until they were both able to enjoy it. And certainly not with Arthur as a convenient body to help Merlin with his problem. “Merlin…”

“But we can still do this! Just because I can’t… you know that you can and I don’t feel _nothing_ any more. There _is_ a little bit of sensation. It’s definitely coming back. Arthur, I want to be with you so much. Please…”

“No.” Arthur still didn’t let go, holding Merlin close, stroking his back under the undone shirt. Merlin’s skin felt warm and Arthur could feel his heart racing. “Not for your first time. Not until we’re sure that you can enjoy it too. I want it to be good for you.”

“It would be!”

“Merlin…” Arthur warned.

“Gwaine would’ve shagged me,” Merlin told him grumpily, pouting a little as he said it.

“Well then Gwaine’s a little shit, isn’t he?” Arthur wasn’t entirely sure that Gwaine would have done given Merlin’s condition. Gwaine wasn’t _that_ bad, but Arthur decided not to point that out. Merlin might call him and try to prove it or something. “Come on,” he patted Merlin on the butt. “Get up, put some pyjamas on. I’m no saint and you’re driving me mad like this. Get ready for bed. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

Merlin pouted at him again, and those wet pink lips made Arthur want to kiss them. Still, Merlin reluctantly sat up, retrieved his sleepwear from under his pillow, flung his shirt off and started to change. He didn’t even bother turning away.

Arthur absolutely did not need to see that much of Merlin’s creamy white skin, and fled to the bathroom before Merlin started divesting himself of his jeans. It wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t. The only ray of hope was Merlin’s claim that he was healing, and perhaps they wouldn’t have to wait much longer. But of course Merlin might just be saying that.

By the time Arthur emerged, Merlin had got into bed and had turned down the lights. It took Arthur a moment or two for his eyes to adjust after the brightness of the bathroom. Merlin was lying down, completely covered by the duvet, only his dark hair visible in contrast to the white of the pillow. He was very still. Arthur wondered whether he was already asleep.

That, at least, would solve the problem for another night. Arthur wasn’t sure he could keep on resisting if Merlin continued to push and push. Life was unfair. He’d finally found someone who seemed to want him as much as he wanted them, and there was all the moral dilemma messing everything up. 

Perhaps the show the following evening really would make a difference to people like Merlin? That would change everything. Because until Merlin was an equal citizen Arthur knew he would always have that niggling doubt in the back of his mind. Was it free will, or was Merlin just reacting to his programming? 

“Are you just going to stand there?” Merlin asked quietly.

Not asleep then. It had been too much to hope for. 

Arthur pulled back the duvet on his side and got into bed. He was aware that Merlin was watching him the whole time, holding his own side of the duvet up against his throat. 

“Hold me again?” Merlin asked. “It helps me sleep.”

Arthur didn’t think it was going to help _him_ sleep, but he’d do anything for Merlin. Well, apart from shag him but that was for his own good. And their good. Their first time would be special, after a perfect date, somewhere romantic. Perhaps they’d go on a mini-break to Paris or something? Merlin had probably never been there. He lay back and opened his arms, letting Merlin snuggle up against him like he had the previous two nights. Merlin eagerly nestled against him and Arthur realised his mistake.

Merlin was naked.

Merlin was stark, staring naked and trying to kiss him again, one hand making its way down into Arthur’s shorts. It was impossible not to react to it. The little shit.

“You are such a tease,” Arthur gasped as Merlin’s fingers curled around him.

“You don’t want me to stop though,” Merlin told him. “You can’t hide it.”

He couldn’t. His traitorous body was giving that away, his cock hardening in Merlin’s hand. 

“Merlin…” Arthur could feel his resolve crumbling. It had been far too long since he’d been with anyone. And he wanted Merlin so much.

“Touch me,” Merlin whispered back, his breath warm on Arthur’s throat. “Please, Arthur. I want to try.”

“If it doesn’t work, this is going to be horrible…”

“But if it _does…_ ” Merlin insisted, moving to kiss him again, his hand moving against Arthur’s cock. “Make me feel again, Arthur. I can’t be real until then. I need you.”

Arthur made a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat as Merlin worked him harder. Merlin was impossible to resist. Arthur knew that he had two choices – give in or send Merlin back to the sofa bed.

He didn’t think he could do the latter. He didn’t want to. 

“Dammit, Merlin.”

“Resistance is futile,” Merlin whispered, because of course he would quote _Star Trek_. 

“I knew your TV appreciation wouldn’t start and end with _Warlord._ You are such a geek.”

“Mmm,” Merlin hummed happily against Arthur’s neck. “Your geek though.”

He was. Merlin wanted to be with him. It would be okay.

“Come on Arthur, have you forgotten what to do?”

Arthur thought that it had been so bloody long that maybe he had. But that wouldn’t matter. This wasn’t going to be perfect, it couldn’t be, not with Merlin so badly damaged. But he’d get better. 

“No,” was all Arthur said. And then he pushed Merlin’s hand away and rolled Merlin onto his back. “Don’t move.”

Merlin shook his head, then watched appreciatively as Arthur knelt up on the bed and quickly wriggled out of his own t-shirt and shorts, his eyes darkening with desire. 

Arthur gazed down at Merlin’s pale, smooth body, drinking in the sight. But while Arthur was already hard and erect, Merlin’s cock was lying there flaccid and useless. “You’re sure?” he checked.

“Yes!” Merlin told him impatiently. “I want to. Even if it’s just you who gets to come this time, I want to be with you.”

There was no hiding how much Arthur wanted to be with Merlin. Hoping he was doing the right thing, he straddled his partner, then leaned down to kiss him, pressing him into the soft mattress. 

Merlin gave a little gasp of pleased surprise, then kissed him back eagerly. “Arthur…”

“If anything isn’t okay, stop me,” Arthur warned quietly against Merlin’s mouth. “All right?”

“Yes.” It was more of an exhalation of breath than a word.

Arthur kissed him again, savouring the sweet taste of him. Merlin reached for him but Arthur batted his hands away. “Just let me touch you,” he breathed, kissing his way down Merlin’s throat, his chest, taking Merlin in a hand slick with hastily-applied lube from the bedside drawer. “Let me try.”

For a few moments there was no reaction at all. Arthur kissed him again, his hand still desperately working with no reaction, although Merlin was kissing him back eagerly enough.

He knew when things changed.

The little cry that Merlin gave into his mouth was almost a sob, and then, suddenly, he’d come alive in Arthur’s hand, hardening as fast and rigid as a young man his age should be. 

“Arthur!” Merlin gasped, rocking into his hand, gripping the sheets as his arousal grew. “Arthur.” As if his name was all there was and meant everything. Perhaps to Merlin it did. “Oh…Arthur.”

Arthur kept working at him, taking them both in hand, slick and fast, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s face. Merlin with his head thrown back, arching up towards him, moaning with pleasure. 

And then there was just the sounds of panting, skin working wetly on skin, both of them moving together, the bed gently squeaking, the taste of salt and love and sweetness. It couldn’t last and didn’t, but neither of them had expected it to. But it was all either of them wanted and needed at that moment. 

Arthur collapsed, spent, against his lover. There were tissues in the bedside drawer but they could wait. Everything could wait. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said again. His eyes were wet. “My Arthur.”

Arthur kissed him, slow and loving. He could understand the tears, the relief. Merlin had to have been so scared that he’d never have full use of his body again. If he was honest, Arthur had held the same fear. And although they could have stayed together without the sex, Arthur wanted to see Merlin happy. He would never have been happy with that worry hanging over them.

“I knew you’d heal me,” Merlin whispered, their foreheads gently touching as they leaned together. “I knew we’d be good.”

“You were right.”

“Mmm…” Merlin captured Arthur’s mouth, kissing as if he couldn’t get enough of him. “Maybe you have magic too.”

Arthur thought that perhaps he did. He was holding it in his arms, and he didn’t want to ever let it go. 

“I should clean us up,” he said eventually, reluctant to move out of Merlin’s embrace. But there would be plenty of time to make love again, to take it slow and gently explore each other. Merlin was whole again.

“Mmm…” Merlin rolled over, lazy in their bed, and let Arthur clean them up, before cuddling up against him again as soon as Arthur lay back down and sighing sleepily. 

“Okay?” Arthur whispered.

“Mmm.” A contented smile was playing around Merlin’s lips and he snuggled closer.

“Never known you so quiet,” Arthur murmured, gazing fondly at him.

Merlin didn’t say anything. He was already almost asleep, looking more contented than Arthur had ever seen him. And Arthur himself was the cause. He had never thought he could be the source of someone else’s happiness before, but it seemed he was Merlin’s.

Well. That was okay then.

\---

The first thing Merlin saw when he opened his eyes the next morning was Arthur.

Arthur, all golden and peaceful in the morning light, one possessive arm resting across Merlin’s chest, a faint smile playing about his lips as he slept.

Merlin thought that he could happily wake to that sight every morning for the rest of his life. Everything was going so well, and his body was his own again, and it was all down to Arthur. 

Somewhere else in the flat he could faintly hear movement, doors opening and closing, pans clattering around. Probably his mother making breakfast for them. All good too, although it meant they’d have to get up. Merlin could have stayed in that bed with Arthur forever.

Instead Aithusa was scratching at their door and gave a little bark. Hunith called him away, but the damage was done. Arthur began to stir. 

“Time to wake up, sleeping beauty,” Merlin purred, leaning in to kiss Arthur.

Arthur blinked sleepily awake, but seemed happy enough to go for it, rolling Merlin over onto his back and kissing him deeply. Because of course Arthur would want to be the dominant partner. Merlin didn’t mind that one bit. And he could already feel himself reacting to Arthur’s proximity, to Arthur’s hard cock pressing against Merlin’s thigh. 

But Arthur pulled away quickly, laughing at Merlin’s expression.

“Oh no, your mum’s right outside the door. We are _not_ having sex.”

“Can’t we book her into a hotel?” Merlin grumbled. “Or send her for a walk?”

“Or you could learn some control. God knows I’ve had to over the last few days!” Arthur laughed at him. “Come on, get up.” He rolled off Merlin and smacked him on the butt. “Today’s the day you get to be a huge media star!”

Merlin groaned, lying back in the bed with his arm over his eyes. He’d briefly forgotten about the TV show. “Leon filmed me. Can’t they just use that? I’m not going to be any good.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Arthurrrrrrrrrr…” Merlin whined. “I don’t waaaaaaaaaaant to!”

“Tough!” Arthur got out of bed and headed for the en suite. “We’re saving people, Merlin, and that means going on national TV at peak time. Anyway, I’ll be there with you.”

But Arthur had one of those made for TV sort of faces, Merlin thought. He would look good no matter what, handsome and perfect. Whereas Merlin was going to look awkward and gangly, and the camera was probably going to hate him and it would be terrifying and Merlin was going to forget everything he was supposed to say and would probably sit there like a rabbit caught in the headlights…

“Merlin,” Arthur called from the en suite. Merlin could hear the shower running. It was quite loud as Arthur hadn’t shut the internal door. “Are you going to lie there worrying, or are you going to join me?”

No contest really. Merlin made sure he shut the door behind him. 

Hopefully with two doors closed and the shower going his mother wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.

\---


	13. Chapter 13

Friday evening came along all too soon.

A car had arrived for them late afternoon, and driven them all to the TV studio. Hunith had come too, although she wasn’t going to appear live. Merlin wasn’t sure whether having her there made him feel more or less nervous. She was going to sit backstage, so he wouldn’t actually be able to see her.

Arthur and Gaius were due to appear on the show with him. That would definitely be reassuring, as would Leon’s friendly face. Unfortunately Uther Pendragon was also going to be on the show with him. That was definitely _not_ going to be reassuring or a particularly friendly face. Still, Uther would be something scary to focus on instead of the at least ten million or so viewers who regularly watched _The Monmouth Report_.

Arthur was ridiculously cheerful about it all. 

“Ah, my favourite studio guest,” Sefa the make-up artist announced as soon as she saw Arthur sitting in her chair. “Always so easy to work with.”

Then she turned to look at Merlin, gave him a smile, and turned back to Arthur. Merlin wasn’t quite sure how to take that. It probably didn’t mean that he was going to be difficult to make look good. Probably. 

She probably fancied Arthur or something. Well, she was wasting her time there, Merlin thought. Arthur was Merlin’s now. He couldn’t help smiling at the thought. Then he realised that Uther was frowning at him from the next chair along, probably thinking Merlin was mentally challenged in some way. Merlin quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral.

As always happened when you were dreading something, time passed at an alarmingly fast rate. Merlin found himself out of makeup and wardrobe, then sitting on the couch for some sort of rehearsal with Geoffrey doing a run through of the sort of questions he was going to ask.

It was all a blur. Merlin couldn’t even recall what he’d said. The studio lights were horribly bright and the cameras seemed to be right there wherever he looked. And this was only for a rehearsal recording that was to be scrapped and replaced with the live one. 

“I can’t do this,” he whispered to Arthur. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m going to look ridiculous. I’ll be mocked all across social media tonight. I’m going to ruin Leon’s show.”

“Actually it’s _my_ show, young man,” Geoffrey boomed at him. Apparently the presenter had supersonic hearing. “And nobody ruins my show! Do you want to run through your questions again? I’m sure you came across very well. Let’s see, shall we? Tris!” he called to his producer who was watching something on a small monitor with a few other people, including Leon. “How’s it looking?”

Tristan gave him the thumbs up. Isolde, one of his team, waved across at them.

“Arthur, you’re looking wonderful as ever!”

“Yeah, he does that,” Merlin grumbled, glowering at Arthur who smirked at him then immediately looked contrite. He must have remembered that Merlin was feeling unsure of himself.

“And the camera really loves you, Merlin!” Isolde added. “You look great!”

Merlin doubted that very much. “You told her to say that, didn’t you?” he accused Geoffrey, who shook his head. His terror of being on live TV far outweighed any remaining awe of the famous presenter.

“Not at all. If you’d come across badly we would be coaching you now. I don’t want my show ruined.”

“You’re doing fine, Merlin,” Leon called. “Exactly what we want. Stop worrying!”

“That means it’s terrible, doesn’t it?” Merlin whispered to Arthur.

“Yes.” 

“What?” Merlin gaped at Arthur in horror.

“Terrible, awful, dire… whatever you want to call it. Honestly, Merlin it was beyond hopeless!”

Merlin opened and closed his mouth a couple of times… and then realised that Arthur was laughing. “Oh, you’re so funny. Hah hah.”

“Really, Arthur,” Gaius tutted. “It’s the poor boy’s first time.”

Arthur just smiled at Merlin, raising one eyebrow suggestively. He didn’t need to say anything. And then Merlin found that he was smiling back at Arthur because what else could he do? The memory of the previous night was still too fresh and sweet.

“Don’t do that on camera,” Geoffrey instructed.

“What?”

“Don’t look at each other like that. Doesn’t fit well with the story. We’re promoting a tragic tale, not the latest edition of _Date Night_.”

Merlin had thought he and Arthur were being fairly subtle, but apparently not. He could feel Uther’s gaze boring into the back of his head, and so was careful not to turn around.

“Arthur,” he heard Uther say. “A word.”

That was when the smile faded from Arthur’s face. He squeezed Merlin’s hand briefly, then got to his feet and followed his father out of the studio. Merlin wondered whether the hand squeeze was for Merlin’s benefit or his own. 

He didn’t envy Arthur having such a strict father. Often when he was growing up Merlin had wished he’d had a father there. But looking at the way that Uther was with Arthur… no, Merlin definitely had a better deal with his mum. And besides, his father had protected him in the end – Merlin’s magic came from his father’s side and it was what had saved his life.

He wondered whether his father was out there somewhere, whether he would see the show and Hunith on it, then realise that the young man who’d come back from the dead was his son? Probably not. And even if he did, Merlin wasn’t entirely sure that he would want to meet him.

Uther was busy laying down the law with Arthur. Merlin couldn’t hear what was being said because they’d gone into one of the side rooms, all of which were soundproofed. But he could see from the body language of the two men exactly what was going on. Uther was leaning forward, right in Arthur’s face, emphasising each point with a jab of his finger. And Arthur was taking it, head bowed, shoulders slumped.

Arthur was stronger and fitter than Uther, he could have overpowered him physically without any trouble. But the mental advantage, the bullying nature, that was something Uther completely owned. Merlin wondered what Arthur had done wrong. As far as he could see Arthur had answered all questions perfectly. And he would have looked good sitting there in the dark suit that he’d worn. 

Merlin was wearing a band t-shirt and jeans. It was something obscure, a band he’d never heard of, though apparently that didn’t matter. The clothing was clean, but very much singled him out as looking different to everyone else involved in the interview. The idea was that he would look young and vulnerable. His mum was probably going to see it and think that he just looked scruffy. He’d already caught her looking worriedly at the outfit. Once she realised it wasn’t just there to protect a smart suit like Arthur’s then she would have things to say.

But she wouldn’t lean into his face, jabbing her finger at him and shouting. She would never, ever do that.

“Poor Arthur,” Gaius murmured, watching the Pendragons. “Sometimes I feel he has to make up for the loss of his mother and his sister too. Uther expects far too much from him.”

“Why doesn’t Arthur leave his job? He’s brilliant, he could find something else,” Merlin asked. 

Gaius shrugged. “Perhaps it’s the same problem? His father has lost two family members and Arthur is too good-natured to deny him the only one left?”

“It’s not fair.”

“No.” Gaius turned to look at him, pointedly turning away from Uther and Arthur. “Merlin, you two seem to be growing close. I would be so very glad to see Arthur happy. And you too, of course. Don’t let Uther put you off. Although Uther isn’t really as bad as he might seem, Arthur is nothing like his father. He’s his mother’s son. And she was a bright, loving person.”

Merlin looked across to where Uther was still talking at Arthur. “I’ll have to take your word for it on Mr Pendragon.”

“Uther’s always had impossibly high expectations for poor Arthur. He was extremely disappointed when Arthur announced that he was gay as that didn’t fit in with the image of a stereotypical family. And later of course with Morgana gone, it reduced the chances of the family line continuing.”

“There are ways…”

“I did say reduce, Merlin, not stop. But I’m not sure that Uther sees it like that. And he misses Morgana very much. I think he blames himself for the loss of both his daughter and his wife. And so that blame and guilt show themselves in his behaviour towards Arthur. And I think Arthur, in his turn, also feels some guilt. His mother died giving birth to him, and we wish we could have helped Morgana more than we did. Arthur especially, as they were very close. But sometimes there’s nothing anyone can do.”

Whatever Uther had been saying to Arthur was finished. Uther walked out of the office, leaving Arthur standing there. Arthur did not immediately follow. He had raised his head as his father left, looking after him with a thoughtful expression on his face. 

Merlin stood up, intending to go in there, but Gaius put out a hand to stop him.

“Give him a few moments, Merlin. Arthur won’t thank you for going in there now. I’m sure that was humiliating enough for him without you or I letting him know that we witnessed it.”

Merlin sat back down again, biting his lip worriedly.

“Ah, don’t do that!” one of the makeup artists came rushing over. “You’re very pale, Merlin. We’ve got the colouring just right on you, if you start biting your lip and reddening it we’ll need to start again!”

Merlin didn’t particularly want to go back to the makeup chair, so he tried to stop. The trouble was, it was a nervous habit and Merlin was feeling quite apprehensive even without the worry about Arthur and his father.

When the makeup artist had finished retouching his lips, Merlin looked around for Arthur but he was nowhere to be seen.

\---

“Arthur, a word.”

It was a short sentence from his father that always left Arthur with a small thrill of dread. There was never any variation in the request, nor did Uther ever wait to see whether Arthur agreed to talk to him before marching off to whichever private area Uther thought suitable to use to berate his son.

Because the ‘word’ was never one of praise.

One day, Arthur thought, he should refuse to go. But then Uther would probably humiliate him in front of whoever else was around. That had been proved on a few occasions. At least in private nobody heard. 

He followed his father to a small empty recording room just off the main studio floor. The glass walls on one side meant that they were in full view, but unless anyone could lip read there would be no witnesses to whatever Uther had decided was wrong this time.

“Arthur,” Uther began, “are you sleeping with that boy?”

Arthur licked suddenly dry lips. He wanted to lie, to avoid the talk that would be coming, but they’d done nothing wrong so he didn’t see why he should have to hide it.

“Yes. We’re in a relationship.”

Uther tutted loudly, frown lines appearing in his face. “Arthur, we discussed this, it’s not appropriate.”

Arthur could recall no such discussion and said as much.

“You told me that you hadn’t slept with him!”

“And that was true at that time.”

“Obviously as almost an entire week has passed... really, Arthur, have you no self-control at all? You’re not a teenager any more. And what is Merlin? Seventeen?”

Arthur almost hated him for saying that. It made something sweet and loving sound sordid and wrong.

“He’s nineteen next month. He would have been at university by now.”

“Eighteen, then. And you’re twenty-four!”

The hypocrite. He might have been the same age as Arthur’s mother, but he’d been nearly ten years older than Morgana’s. Arthur knew better than to point that out though.

“I would never take advantage!”

“That’s not how the press will see it. The press are going to be all over that boy, whether they’re on his side or not. And just the slightest hint from Du Bois will be all it takes to have people accusing you of using him. They’re going to come after us with everything they can. So you’re to stop sleeping with him and just pray nobody discovers that you did!”

“I love him,” Arthur said quietly, head down.

Perhaps his father didn’t hear. 

“This is our one chance to save the company, Arthur. One chance. Don’t you let me down over this. Everything that I’ve built up, everything that you’ll one day inherit… this story is going to make us or break us. Don’t you let it break us just because of a pretty face.”

Merlin would definitely have something to say about being called a pretty face, Arthur thought. And that wasn’t it anyway, it was much more than that. But there was no point trying to explain that to his father. Uther just wouldn’t understand. So Arthur didn’t say anything further and just let him rant on, while Arthur thought about the way Merlin looked blinking sleepily awake in the morning, the way he slouched on the sofa surrounded by biscuit crumbs, the way he smiled…

“…Is that understood?” Uther finished a few minutes later.

Arthur nodded. “Yes, Father.”

“Good. Now get back into the studio and put on a good show. We have a couple of hours until the broadcast.”

“Yes, Father,” Arthur repeated as Uther left the room.

He didn’t care any more. If Pendragon Robotics went under then that would be a real shame, but it wasn’t the end of the world. And anyway, it was unlikely to do so simply because the son of the owner had fallen in love.

Arthur was used to lectures from his father.

He’d been having them for as long as he could remember. Lectures about doing well at school, about making sure that he was the best at everything. Arthur had worked and studied hard. He knew he was good at his job. He’d even discovered through Merlin a way that they might be able to put Du Bois out of business. 

And yet all of that was nothing to Uther because apparently it was quite obvious that Arthur and Merlin were in some sort of relationship. Although Uther didn’t call it that. No, Arthur had tried not to listen but he knew that Uther had said something about merchandise and evidence, and keeping a pristine reputation. That last was important because _it will be obvious to everyone what you bought him for in the first place._

What Arthur had with Merlin was pure and loving. He felt sullied by his father’s words and couldn’t immediately go back to sit with Merlin. He just needed a few minutes, a little walk around outside. There was an area at the back where people could go if they needed a cigarette or something. Arthur headed out there to sit on one of the benches.

He couldn’t stay out there for long. Merlin had been worried about the upcoming show and would need his support. And Arthur knew that his father would be looking daggers at them the whole time that Arthur tried to provide that support. Merlin needed him.

Uther was going to have to deal with it because Arthur had no intention of letting Merlin down. But he just needed a few minutes to himself. And then he’d go back inside.

\---

Merlin felt sick.

The show was about to start. He was sitting beside Arthur on Geoffrey’s famous couch. Gaius was on his other side, and beyond him was Uther Pendragon. 

Uther had been giving Merlin an odd half-smile ever since he returned from berating Arthur. Merlin had been creeped out at first, but then he realised that it was some misguided attempt at being friendly. That probably meant that he definitely was the subject of whatever Uther had been telling Arthur. 

Arthur had been gone for ages, or so it had seemed. Time was doing odd things for Merlin, hurtling towards the horror of the TV show, yet dragging when Arthur had vanished. At least Arthur was back with him now, though Merlin noticed that he was sitting as far away from his father as he could. But then that would be the TV people’s set up. They had all been instructed where to sit.

Oh god, the TV people… the cameras…

There were cameras everywhere, with five of them trained on Geoffrey and his guests. That probably meant that there was a camera each. Merlin wondered which one was trained on him. Did he have to look at it? Was that what Tristan had said? Merlin couldn’t remember. He couldn’t recall any of the instructions at all. Should he smile? Oh god… oh god… oh god…

His right leg started to jiggle up and down and he put a hand on it in an attempt to steady it.

“Stop doing that, Merlin,” Tristan called. “We’re going live in three minutes.”

Merlin pressed harder on his leg, realising that he was going to be seen by the nation like that if he didn’t stop. The online mockery would begin immediately the show started. 

“Sit up straight, Merlin,” Isolde said in his earpiece. 

“Which one do I listen to?” Merlin whispered to Arthur. “The one in my ear or the over there?”

Arthur smiled kindly at him, putting his own hand over Merlin’s in an attempt to help steady his leg. Thankfully that worked. But Merlin knew Arthur wouldn’t be able to stay like that once they went on air.

“Tristan’s in charge, listen to him. But you’ve got Isolde, yes? She usually looks after the newcomers.”

“She’s in my ear.”

“Okay, listen to her, she’ll look after you. But Tristan gives the overall commands. Isolde won’t tell you to do anything that contradicts what Tristan tells you.”

“Is it too late to say I can’t do this?”

“Yes it is!” Tristan called. “You’ll be fine, Merlin. The rehearsal went well, just pretend this is another one.”

“How can he hear me?” Merlin whispered.

Arthur actually rolled his eyes at that. “You’re in a TV studio, _Mer_ -lin, about to be interviewed. There are microphones everywhere! So no burping or farting unless you want to broadcast it to the nation!”

Merlin stared at him in horror. Because of course he was now worrying about his lunch and that pasta thing in the studio canteen that he’d had an hour or so ago. “Oh no…”

“I’m joking!”

“I’m not! Arthur… what if I do something like that?”

Arthur was actually laughing at Merlin’s expression. So much for being supportive. 

“Please don’t while I’m sitting next to you!”

“Prat!”

“Stinky!”

Arthur pulled a theatrically disgusted face as if he’d just encountered a particularly awful odour. Merlin couldn’t help laughing.

“Will you two be quiet!” Uther hissed. “And Arthur, _hands_!”

Chastised, Merlin and Arthur sat up straight, facing the cameras. Arthur had removed his hand as if Merlin had burnt him. But it seemed to have helped – Merlin’s leg was behaving.

“Sixty seconds!” Tristan called. 

There was an autocue. Merlin wondered whether he could have one. It seemed to only be there for Geoffrey, but surely they could make one for Merlin too? Perhaps they would once they realised that he couldn’t actually speak?

“Can I have an autocue?” he asked Arthur.

“No you can’t,” Tristan called. “You don’t need one.”

Damn, every single word. He was going to have to make sure that all microphones were removed before they left. That would be potentially quite embarrassing.

“No more talking,” Isolde instructed in his ear. “Keep sitting up straight. Look at your camera.”

“Which is my camera?”

“The one with number four on the side. Stop worrying, Merlin.”

That was easy for Isolde to say. She knew what she was doing. Also she didn’t have to do it in _front_ of the cameras.

“Ten seconds!” Tristan called.

Oh no….

“Rolling in three… two…”

There was a monitor visible just to the side of Geoffrey’s chair. Merlin wished that he hadn’t noticed it because once it had been spotted it was hard to take his eyes off it. For now it was Geoffrey’s familiar, confident face that filled the screen.

“Clones,” Geoffrey began. “We’ve all seen them over the past few years. An incredible feat of genetic engineering. Human shells grown at a rapid rate and then programmed to serve us. They clean the streets, work in the fields, bring in the harvest in the summer. Some are purchased as companions. Some are used as a gimic during product promotions. All of us have seen them in some role or other. They’ve become a familiar sight. But do we know what they really are? Camelot Tonight has a shocking, exclusive report into the cloning industry. And I assure you, once you’ve watched tonight’s programme you will never, ever look at a clone in the same way again.”

“And roll credits!” Merlin heard Tristan call via the earpiece. 

Geoffrey quickly rifled through the papers he’d been holding below the camera’s line of sight. He looked deadly serious.

“Do we just sit here?” Merlin whispered to Arthur.

“Shhh,” Uther hissed. 

“Just wait,” Arthur whispered back. “Tristan gives us all our instructions via the earpiece now we’re live, just like they told you. If you’re doing anything incorrectly one of his team will let you know.”

“It will just be the questions that you’ve already been given, Merlin.” That was Isolde, via his earpiece again. “I’m right here, I’m focusing purely on you for the entire show so it will mostly be me that you hear. And right now you’re looking terrified… which is exactly what we want to project so don’t change expression. Look to Arthur for reassurance if you need it, he’s always very good at this.”

Reassurance was exactly what Merlin needed. He glanced worriedly at Arthur who gave him a kind smile and nod.

“It’s okay,” Arthur whispered.

“And Geoffrey you’re live again in five… four… three… two…” Tristan called, then held up his finger for ‘one’ before pointing at Geoffrey to silently indicate that they were live.

Geoffrey sat in his famous green interviewing chair and stared into the camera lens, his face a mask of concern. 

“The laws on cloning have never been very clear. Cloning of dead people was allowed as a humanitarian gesture five years ago. Since then many bereaved people have found comfort in this, almost feeling that their loved one has come back to them. But of course it isn’t their loved one, and these clones have never been given the same rights as the person that they were created from. It’s a difficult question – just what is it that defines a human being?”

“You’re about to be on camera,” Isolde warned in Merlin’s ear. “You look fine, sit up a little straighter… perfect.”

“My guests tonight are two gentlemen who you’ll all be familiar with – Uther Pendragon, the owner of Pendragon Robotics, and Dr. Gaius McGuiness, head scientist and co-founder of the company. Another returning guest is Arthur Pendragon, Uther’s son who works with Dr McGuiness as a robotics scientist.”

Arthur smiled and nodded to the camera with what looked to Merlin to be a practiced ease. Merlin envied him that confidence. For his own part he thought he might be about to be sick.

“My fourth and final guest is a young gentleman who will be new to all of you, except perhaps to those living in a small rural community out in Wales. Merlin Emrys isn’t a household name, but I assure you that by the end of this broadcast he will be.”

Merlin could see a monitor beside the cameraman. His own face loomed large on it, looking every inch as terrified as he felt.

“It’s fine,” Isolde’s voice told him. “You’re doing great, just breathe.”

He didn’t think it was the time to point out that he hadn’t actually had to speak on camera yet. Beside him he felt Arthur move a little closer.

“Around six months ago,” Geoffrey continued (and Merlin was relieved to see that the camera had moved back to the presenter), “there was a tragic accident in the village of Ealdor.”

Merlin’s home town appeared on the monitor, then it was replaced by his final year school photo. It was the same one that had appeared on news articles about his death. Hideous.

“Merlin Emrys, aged just eighteen years old, his whole life ahead of him, fell into a river and drowned. His family and friends were devastated.”

There was a picture, briefly, of a gravestone. Merlin assumed it must be his own. Grim.

“But they said their goodbyes. They buried Merlin’s body and tried to go on with their lives. And yet, here he is, sitting with us here.”

The camera flicked to a nervous-looking Merlin again. 

“One part of the cloning industry has long been the subject of debate. That is the production of a clone, using the DNA of someone who has died. Sometimes this can be a comfort to those left behind, as if their loved one has entirely gone. Others say that this is an at best questionable practice and should not be allowed.”

Geoffrey was doing his most serious expression. He was quite famous for it, slightly raising an eyebrow and looking direct at the camera. Watching it at home, it always felt as if he were speaking directly to you.

“Is this what has happened here? Did Merlin’s poor, grieving mother allow his DNA to be harvested so that she would have her son back?”

Geoffrey paused, looking around the studio then nodding to Merlin as if they were sharing some sort of secret. Merlin wondered whether he was supposed to do something. But then Geoffrey turned back to face the camera.

“Is young Merlin here a clone?” Geoffrey continued. “That would be the obvious explanation. But no, he is most definitely not a clone. In fact, no attempt at all was made to create a clone from him. What we have uncovered on tonight’s _Monmouth Report_ is a quite horrific practice being carried out beneath the gleaming surface of Du Bois inc.”

The camera cut to an image of a large building. Merlin supposed that it must be Du Bois headquarters or something. It did look extremely clinical and sterile on the outside, all glass and metal.

“This is in fact Merlin Emrys, the same young man who drowned six months ago. He still has all his memories, all the scars that he’s earned during his short life. You are no doubt wondering how on earth this can possibly be! We wondered too, and can now share with you our exclusive findings. There now follows a detailed report from our top investigator, Leon Knight.” Geoffrey leaned in closer to the camera, and Merlin saw his face loom up large on the screen. “His findings will shock and disturb you.”

And that was it for several minutes. Geoffrey sat back in his chair while a make-up artist did a quick touch-up on his face. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Merlin commented, then covered his mouth with his hand guiltily, remembering that he was supposed to be being silent. “The rehearsal was much worse.”

“You do realise that was just the start?” Uther told him. “Obviously they only rehearsed with you the parts where you talk. This part is just the introduction.”

Leon’s film was running on the small monitor. Merlin could see him standing by what looked as if it was the river in Ealdor. And then that gravestone loomed up again. Merlin wondered what was being said. Perhaps Arthur’s huge TV system would be able to pull it up later so that they could watch it properly. Minus the sections with Merlin on the couch, preferably.

Hunith appeared on the screen. That had to be the separate interview that Leon had done. She looked barely recognisable, carefully made up, hair immaculate. Merlin wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen her looking so smart. He didn’t think that he liked it – she looked colder than normal. Still, he had makeup on himself and probably looked just as slick.

“Du Bois have already called in, asking what the hell we’re playing at,” Tristan told them. “Just carry on as planned. We expected this to happen. They’ll be threatening with lawyers before the end of the broadcast.”

Leon’s report was continuing. Merlin saw himself on the screen, and a close-up of the faint scar on his arm. He scratched at it absently. It was of course fully visible with him sitting in the studio in a short-sleeved T-shirt. Perhaps that was why they’d asked him to wear it.

Arthur’s face appeared on the screen. The camera really did love him. He was, if possible, even more attractive up close on the monitor, Merlin thought. Merlin had sat through Arthur’s interview, he knew that they were talking about how Arthur had discovered Merlin was no clone. 

“I told them you were clearly faulty given that you’d stolen all my chocolate digestives!” Arthur whispered, making Merlin giggle.

“Quiet!” Uther instructed.

“The studio microphones are muted while this is on,” Geoffrey told him. “Really, Uther, you’ve been on the show quite a few times now, you should know that.”

Merlin noticed the little smile that Arthur didn’t quite manage to hide, though as he was turned away from his father Uther wouldn’t be able to see. Whatever had gone down between them, Arthur and Uther were clearly not happy with one another.

On the screen, Leon was back in Ealdor, standing by the old bridge. Merlin felt strangely detached on seeing it. He’d thought he would feel something, that being the place where he’d died. But it had all happened so quickly. It didn’t feel as if it were the same place. And also it was so small on the monitor from that distance. 

Gwaine and Will appeared on the screen. Will looked hugely uncomfortable, and was only on for a few moments. But Gwaine was clearly a natural show-off and totally at home on camera. The camera loved him possibly even more than it loved Arthur, and that was saying something.

Unlike Will, Gwaine was on camera for quite some time. He appeared to be showing Leon around the village at one point, or selected highlights such as the river and Merlin’s home. 

“Someone likes the spotlight,” Gaius commented, watching him. “Who’s that, Merlin? A friend of yours?”

“Gwaine,” Arthur replied for him. Merlin thought there was a certain amount of distaste in the way that he said it. “The other one’s Will. He’s Merlin’s friend since childhood.”

Gwaine was busy swishing his hair out of his eyes and grinning at the camera. There was possibly more footage of him than there had been of the interview with Hunith.

“William didn’t do well on TV,” Geoffrey commented. “We had the other lad step in. If you watch the full programme later you’ll see that Gwaine there is now also Merlin’s good friend since childhood. He said that you had known each other all your lives.”

“Well… sort of,” Merlin admitted. “He might have said hello a couple of times.”

“Hmm.” Geoffrey shrugged, and went back to looking through his papers. “Sorry, but we could barely get three words out of William. Absolutely hopeless on camera. Gwaine, on the other hand, is a complete natural.”

“The magic of television,” Arthur commented. “And you were never going to have any trouble getting words out of Gwaine.”

“Quiet in the studio!” Tristan called, not at all quietly. “Broadcasting live in one minute.”

Merlin wished he was anywhere else. He could completely understand why Will hadn’t wanted to do any interviewing. Merlin himself was never, ever going to go back into a TV studio if he could help it. It was just too traumatic. 

The monitor cut back to Leon, who now was walking along talking to the camera. He was extremely professional. Merlin still found it hard to believe that he actually knew such a famous TV star, and that he could almost consider him a friend thanks to Arthur. Really Arthur did move in quite different circles to Merlin. Yet Leon was down to earth and friendly, not at all stand-offish and obsessed with his fame.

“Ten seconds!” Tristan called again.

Merlin’s heart sank. Arthur gave him a small smile, which perked him up somewhat, but not enough. The show was going to be on for an entire hour...

“Rolling in three… two…”

The camera cut to Geoffrey, who simply did a short monologue to the camera taking them up to the advert break. At the end of Geoffrey’s speech the camera panned back and Merlin could see himself on the screen again, though only for a moment.

The short break seemed to be the cue for half the studio crew to descend on them all. Hair and makeup were busy – the hot lights were playing havoc with Merlin’s artfully styled hair, and Geoffrey was sweating heavily in the heat.

Tristan was talking to Geoffrey, going through a few things on his clipboard. Then he turned to Merlin. 

“This will be the section with your interview, Merlin. We’ll play the pre-recorded one first, just as in rehearsals. Then Geoffrey will ask you a few questions. Nothing you haven’t gone through already.”

That was the part Merlin had been dreading. That, and then later when there would be a ‘chat’ with them all on the couch. He barely heard Tristan calling them all to order again a few minutes later, and sat pale-faced through his own interview.

He looked awkward and pale on the monitor. Quite what any of them thought they were going to achieve from the show was anyone’s guess. Merlin was quite sure that he would come across as awful. He looked geeky, his ears seemed to be sticking out even more than usual, although perhaps that was in contrast to Arthur.

“Merlin,” Isolde’s voice in his ear made him jump. “You’re looking terrified. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Clearly that was a lie because there was everything to worry about. The recorded interview was coming to an end, and Geoffrey was talking to the camera. And then, horrifyingly, Geoffrey was turning to look at Merlin.

And so was the camera.

“Merlin, we’ve heard a great deal today from your friends, and just now a pre-recorded interview with yourself. I know this must be a daunting experience for you, but can you just tell me, in your own words, what it was like to wake up in Du Bois’ factory that first time?”

Arthur gave him an encouraging smile but Merlin wasn’t sure he could open his mouth to speak.

“Um…”

The camera cut back to Geoffrey. “This is a terribly disturbing event to recall for young Merlin. And of course live television isn’t for everyone.”

Merlin didn’t dare look at Uther, who was probably giving him a death stare. The camera cut back to him again.

“I didn’t know where I was,” he offered. He could see his own face on the monitor, wide-eyed and terrified. In his ear Isolde was telling him to relax, that he was amongst friends. “And I was only awake for a few minutes before they tried to wipe my memories.”

“Terrible,” Geoffrey nodded sympathetically. “As if you hadn’t already suffered enough. And tell me, did you hear them say why they were doing this to you? And how?”

“It was magic. Magical medicine, but not… not like the good kind.” Merlin gazed fearfully at the camera, then turned to Arthur, looking for support.

“Clones take time to grow, and demand has outstripped the production rate,” Arthur explained. He spoke so clearly and confidently. Merlin envied him. “So they’ve been taking unmarked bodies and using those instead. Taking real people. That’s what they did with Merlin.”

“Thank you, Arthur. Now Merlin, you were only eighteen when this happened to you. A terrible ordeal for you. You were saved by your own magic. We heard a little from your friends just now about what it was like when you were growing up, how you felt you should hide your magic.”

“People are suspicious of magic users,” Merlin managed to say. 

“And yet you wanted to use it for good. You were aiming for a career using magical medicine.” Geoffrey spoke directly to the camera. “All Merlin wanted was to help others with his magic, to do good. Imagine his shock when he saw others with the same gift using it to do harm. And what did they say when they realised that you were conscious?”

“They said…” he glanced at Arthur, who nodded encouragingly at him, “I was another one. Because there were more.”

“There were more,” Geoffrey repeated, looking solemnly at the camera. “More poor, innocent, terrified victims. Ones we may never even know about. But there are some that we do know about. There’s Merlin. And thanks to Merlin, we found another and were able to save him too. Come back after the break and we’ll show you a film that will shock and sadden you. And we’ll also show you our shocking findings when we exhumed Merlin’s grave.”

Merlin knew that they had been going to do it that day. He’d not dared ask Leon what the outcome had been, and had been so busy worrying about the show that evening that he had almost forgotten about it. As soon as they were off air again, he turned to Arthur worriedly.

“Do you know what they found?”

Arthur shook his head. “It won’t be you, so I wouldn’t worry.”

But Merlin did worry. He fidgeted while the make-up artist adjusted his hair and put some sort of powder on his face. They all looked like clowns, but apparently without it they would look too pale. He wondered where Leon was. He’d been absent all day, and he normally appeared in the studio at the very end of the show each week for a brief chat with Geoffrey.

“Why haven’t they told me what’s in there?” he asked Arthur again. 

“They’ve probably forgotten that you might want to know? Tristan?” Arthur called to the producer. “You’re driving Merlin mad, what’s in the box?”

“Nothing!” Tristan called back. “Well, a dummy. It was weighted, just like we expected.”

“A dummy!” Arthur evidently couldn’t help himself, he gave Merlin a delighted grin. 

“Shut up.”

“What? I didn’t say anything? I restrained myself!” But he was all wide-eyed fake innocence, and unable to hide his smile. “A dummy…”

Merlin glared at him. “So it was _you_ in there?”

“Hah!”

“One minute!” Tristan yelled, possibly louder than was necessary.

“Just be glad it’s good news,” Geoffrey advised. “And please, no arguing, however amusing you two may think you are, on camera. It might not come across as friendly.”

“Really, Arthur,” Uther muttered him under his breath, and Arthur’s face fell.

“Sorry,” Merlin mouthed to Arthur. 

Arthur shrugged, then managed to produce a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Merlin felt bad about that. He hadn’t meant to do anything more than tease Arthur for his strange, awkward way of trying to make Merlin feel better. Bantering with him did tend to put Merlin at his ease. But nobody else seemed to get that, least of all Arthur’s severe and intimidating father. Uther Pendragon had probably never engaged in friendly or flirtatious banter in his entire life, so it was hardly surprising.

“We’re getting a lot of calls,” Geoffrey told them. “Some believe you, some don’t. It’s always the extremes on either side that contact us. And Du Bois are livid, obviously. Threatening to sue. Excellent publicity!”

The show went live again, and after Geoffrey had a lengthy discussion with Gaius and Uther on the moral ambiguity of cloning they cut to another film. Leon again, still in Ealdor, standing in the churchyard. Behind him was a large tent that had been erected over one of the graves. Merlin’s, obviously. People in forensic coveralls were going in and out of the tent.

Merlin wished that he could hear what Leon was saying. He’d got Gwaine there again, and the pair of them were having a conversation until one of the people in the coveralls came out of the tent and beckoned them inside.

Obviously it was staged. Merlin had never really appreciated how much the so-called documentaries that he’d watched (when something more interesting like _Warlord_ wasn’t on instead) were all just set up scenarios. On screen, Leon and Gwaine actually looked apprehensively at one another before stepping into the tent, the cameraman following. 

“What’s he doing?” Arthur whispered to Merlin. “Why’s Gwaine…”

Arthur abruptly stopped talking, suddenly looking contrite. Merlin guessed that he had been told off by the person in his ear for speaking. Their microphones were muted, Merlin was pretty sure of that. But Geoffrey’s wasn’t, he was talking over the film to the audience. Merlin didn’t need to look at Uther to know exactly what sort of expression he’d be giving Arthur.

“Don’t talk, Merlin,” Isolde advised in Merlin’s ear. Merlin had no intention of doing so. It was difficult enough when they actually wanted him to. “Look sad.”

“…And there it is. The coffin was exhumed this very afternoon. We found inside this weighted mannequin. As Mr Greene just told us, this successfully fooled the pall-bearers. A little heavier than Merlin’s current weight, although that’s most likely due to missing his loving mother’s cooking for the last few months!”

The camera switched to a close-up of Merlin, briefly. He didn’t need to try to look sad. It was horrible, the thought of Will and Gwaine carrying that thing into the church. His mother walking behind, crying her heart out. Even if he came to terms with his own experience he would never forgive Du Bois for putting the three of them through that. Never.

“Fortunately there wasn’t a cremation, although we understand that this was a last-minute change of plans. So normally there would have been no evidence of the exchange at all. It means that we will never know just how many victims there have been of this horrific human trafficking.”

The audio must have switched back to Leon, because Geoffrey sat back in his chair and turned to look at Arthur.

“Microphones are muted again. I don’t think mine picked you up, Arthur, but do be careful.”

“Yes, Arthur,” Uther snapped. “Really, you should know better.”

“There, there, Uther, don’t be harsh,” Geoffrey smiled. “Arthur’s usually extremely professional when he comes on. I know he feels passionately about this story, and we do have him to thank for it. Thank goodness Merlin went to a good and decent human being like your Arthur, eh? And you can all relax and chat for a while. We have a few minutes now while we run Leon’s interviews with a few of the people working on the dig and then I’ll just lead us into the break.”

Merlin didn’t miss the pointed look that Geoffrey and Gaius exchanged. They were friends, and doubtless Gaius had expressed to him the same concerns over the way that Uther treated Arthur that he had to Merlin. It was good to see that people had Arthur’s back. Arthur deserved better treatment than Uther gave him. 

Arthur didn’t say anything much during the period between the studio broadcasts going live. He sat quietly, his face impassive. Merlin tried a couple of times to talk to him but any answers were polite, accompanied by a brief reassuring smile, but monosyllabic. 

When they went into the break, with Geoffrey promising another shocking exposé in the final section, Arthur got up and headed for the men’s room. Merlin hesitated for a moment, then followed, Isolde in his ear telling him to sit back down, that they only had a couple of minutes. He was tempted to take the earpiece out, but he knew he could run back across the studio as soon as he heard the one minute call from Tristan. 

Arthur was standing in the men’s room leaning over the sink, head down. Merlin didn’t even try to say anything, just went over and put his arms around him. Arthur froze for a moment, then held him back so tightly that it almost hurt.

“If you get make-up on your clothes I’ll strangle the pair of you!”

Tristan had followed them in and was standing in the doorway glaring at them both. “If you’re quite done, get back out there and sit on that couch. Two minutes!”

Arthur pulled away from him and Merlin guiltily noticed a greasy patch on Arthur’s shoulder where some of the make-up must have rubbed off. Tristan noticed it too.

“Oh hell. Mary!” he yelled to one of his team. “Clean up job!” He scowled at Merlin and Arthur. “Sofa! Now!”

“He’s not as scary as your dad,” Merlin whispered as they scuttled back towards the sofa. Uther was of course looking furious.

“Oh, you haven’t seen him when he’s really angry,” came Isolde’s voice in his ear. “Uther’s a pussycat in comparison, trust me!”

Mary, a friendly and pleasant-looking woman who kept smiling appreciatively at Merlin, came over and did her best to clean up the makeup stain, until Tristan started to do the countdown and she hurried away.

“And welcome back to the final section of tonight’s show,” Geoffrey announced smoothly to the camera. “You’ve heard all about Merlin’s story, and seen the shocking revelations regarding the massive cover up of Du Bois dubious practices. But perhaps you are thinking now that Merlin is a one-off, an aberration. I can tell you now that he is not. What we’re going to show you now is deeply sad, and some may find it upsetting. But unpleasant truths need to be revealed, and that’s what this show is all about.”

Mordred’s face appeared on the monitor in a series of still photographs. Geoffrey carried on talking although he was no longer on camera.

“This is Mordred Black, a young man who suffered a similar fate to Merlin. Merlin briefly met him during his own ordeal at Du Bois, and identified him in their current catalogue. _The Monmouth Report_ managed to purchase him, much as it sickened us to do so. I will tell you now that Mordred is in a safe house, and no longer in any danger.”

There was an image of a nervous-looking Mordred sitting on a sofa with a mug in his hands. He wasn’t looking at the camera.

“We’ve managed to find out that Mordred was a street kid. We don’t know how he died, nor have we found much out about him at all. We’ve not been able to locate any family members who might be looking for him. It’s tragic how people can slip out of society and become so unnoticed that even their deaths go unrecorded. Mordred’s magic isn’t as strong as Merlin’s, and his fight against what has been done to him is harder. As you’ll see in a moment, at present we can only communicate with him via a series of signals. But he’s breaking through the barriers that have been put up and we hope that by next week’s show we’ll be able to tell his story in full, just as we have with Merlin this week.”

There followed a short film of Leon and Mordred, with Leon asking him questions and Mordred responding with the yes or no tapping system that they’d worked out.

“They should _not_ have put that poor boy on TV just yet,” Gaius whispered angrily as soon as their microphones were muted. 

Uther shushed him. “This all helps us, Gaius. And helps that boy as well. Perhaps his family will see this and claim him. Then we’ll have another empty coffin and yet more crimes by Agravaine. Cloning will be finished after this.”

“I wonder whether he’ll ever be able to talk to us?” Arthur wondered. “And what further horrors he’ll come out with when he can?”

Merlin didn’t know. Working with Gaius to strengthen his own magic had helped him recover faster. But apparently his magic was stronger than most people’s and so wasn’t a very reliable meter for others’ recovery.

On the screen, Mordred’s face was expressionless, his complexion pale and waxy. He was almost like a machine, and the tapping communication did nothing to lessen that likeness. The ‘interview’ didn’t last long and seemed to mostly consist of Leon talking to the camera.

“You’re back on in 5…” Tristan started to countdown again.

Merlin found that he was starting to relax a little. It was no longer as terrifying as it had been an hour ago. He couldn’t see all the people who were watching, and the show was almost over. He didn’t ever want to go on it again, but he wasn’t as nervous as he had been. Still, he looked to Arthur for reassurance again when Geoffrey singled him out for another question.

“Merlin, you recognised Mordred from your time inside Du Bois Inc. Tell us, how was he at that time? What did you see?”

“I… erm… he was conscious. Shouting at the staff, fighting to get away from them. They said something about having ‘another one’. It…erm… it sounded as if there were more than just the two of us who had survived their treatment.”

“Well done,” Isolde’s voice told him.

“More than just the two of them.” Geoffrey faced the camera, all seriousness. “Who knows just how many victims there have been. It’s terrifying to think of. And we see Merlin here, who after a week is able to articulate clearly, and compare him with poor Mordred who has been so strongly conditioned that he is unable to speak. It’s quite miraculous that he’s managing to communicate with us at all. Gaius, what are your thoughts?”

“I believe Mordred will recover, just as Merlin has done. Merlin has stronger magic, and that is the key here. He and I have been working all week on strengthening exercises. That seems to have worked very well. We’re hoping that Mordred’s natural magic ability will continue to eradicate what has been done to him, and that once he can speak freely again things will move along a great deal faster. But for now it’s a long process. The biggest hurdle has been obtaining the poor boy’s trust. As you can imagine, that’s very hard for him. Especially as he’s being used in a TV show.”

Gaius just couldn’t help himself. Merlin tried not to smile. Geoffrey looked for a moment as if someone had slapped him. So much for the bromance.

“Yes, yes, thank you Gaius… Ah, Leon, you made it back!” Geoffrey immediately turned the attention away from Gaius and onto his co-star who, as he did every week, suddenly appeared in the studio at the end of the show. Artfully dishevelled thanks to a trip to make-up first, Leon was hurrying past the cameras and coming up to sit on the sofa closest to Geoffrey just at the correct point in the show. Not staged or convenient at all. 

There were instructions in Merlin’s ear to move along the sofa, and he supposed that was the same for all the others too. By the time Leon had stepped up to shake all of their hands, they were all in their new positions.

“Didn’t think I was going to make it,” Leon told them all happily. “Traffic back from Wales was dire.”

“Oh, that’s the M4 for you,” Geoffrey agreed. “Always some sort of delay, especially as you get towards Camelot. Good to see you back, Leon. That piece where you were digging up the grave had me gripped. The number of calls we’ve had in during tonight’s show has been at record levels. People are worried about their own loved ones. There’s a high priest of an… ah… unusual religion shall we say? He thinks you’re the second coming, Merlin. Perhaps we’ll have him on next week! And there’s going to be an official enquiry into exactly what Du Bois are doing. Could be the end of the road for our ‘dub-oi-us’ clone makers!” He laughed at his own pun, and Leon joined in. 

“Laugh,” Isolde instructed in Merlin’s ear, and he did his best to comply.

Honestly, the whole show was a bit of a fake, Merlin thought. It was nothing like the slick production that he’d seen on the telly. 

“Everyone’s been asking how Mordred’s doing,” Geoffrey continued. “Any updates since your report?”

“Ah, well it’s early days,” Leon replied. “He’s not able to speak yet, but there’s a definite improvement today. One of the team gave him a keyboard and he’s been able to produce a few words. We’re really hopeful that he’ll be talking in a few days. Obviously he’s still very skittish. He’s been through a horrendous ordeal.”

Neither of them were looking at each other for their chat. Instead they were looking direct at the camera. 

“Well, we all hope he’ll recover soon,” Geoffrey told the camera. “And that’s about it for this week, but not for this story. This is going to run for a while, and I promise you all that _The Monmouth Report_ will be all over any further developments. We’ve barely touched the surface of the ethics question hanging over cloning. This story took us by surprise and there’s been a lot to cover. So next week’s show will go further into the history of cloning and what has and hasn’t been done to protect the vulnerable creations.” 

He went on to thank their guests. Merlin smiled and nodded to the camera at the appropriate point, glad it was over, then all the attention was on Leon and Geoffrey again.

“We’ll see you next week,” Leon told the cameras. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Geoffrey ended the show, and the lights dimmed.

Merlin knew that they were now all in silhouette while the credits rolled, and supposed that he was going to have to sit there looking as if they were in conversation because that was how the show always ended.

“Well that went very well,” Geoffrey announced as soon as their mikes were muted. “Thanks everyone. I may need you all back next week if the story rumbles on, so keep Friday free.”

Merlin couldn’t think of many things he’d like to do less. 

The studio lights went up again and Tristan announced they were off air.

“Good show!” he told them all. “We’ll get Du Bois on next week to hear their side of it.”

“Excellent!” Geoffrey was actually rubbing his hands together at that news. “Uther, Gaius, you’ll come on that for a debate, yes?”

Gaius looked a little wary, but Uther was quick to agree. 

“That won’t be happening,” Isolde made her way past the cameras and down onto the set. “Du Bois are under investigation for human rights violations. If proved, this will go to the Supreme Court. I’ve just taken a call from someone in the Ministry of Justice about it. They’re shutting down the story while it’s under investigation. We can’t broadcast any more allegations. And even if we wanted to, Du Bois are accusing us of slander and have got a cease and desist order on us so although that’ll be quashed as soon as what we’re claiming has been proved, we can’t go any further with it for now.”

“But the press will be all over it in the morning,” Arthur protested. 

“It’s only us who are being slapped with a cease and desist so far,” Isolde pointed out. “All the other news outlets can print what they want, until they get shut down as well. So when you two get home you might want to go in the back way.”

“Arthur’s place is so posh they have their own security,” Merlin told her. “We’ll be fine.”

He really didn’t like the way that Isolde smiled at him as if he were some sweet summer child…

\---


	14. Chapter 14

The scene outside Arthur’s apartment block was absolute mayhem. There were reporters, cameramen and TV crews everywhere, plus a large crowd of people who had simply come along to stare. There was also a bald-headed man wearing what looked from a distance as if it was a silver dress. Perhaps the high priest had arrived? If so then it was probably robes. He was waving a staff above his head and seemed to be shouting things at the reporters.

Definitely some sort of nutter, Arthur thought.

Arthur had insisted that a human driver take them back home rather than use one of the robots. This turned out to be a wise move as he was able to stop at a discrete distance, turn around and under Arthur’s direction head in another way. The robot might well have managed to do the same thing, but Arthur wasn’t going to risk it.

The block had its own underground car park. The main entrance to it was currently completely blocked by the crowds, but there was a service access at the back. There was a semi-retired singer who lived two floors below Arthur who had used it once or twice and told him about it. It was beyond a barrier, down a service road. Doubtless there would still be paparazzi there but it wouldn’t be as bad as at the front. Also the building security would be keeping the entrance clear. They would need to. The crowd that Arthur’s famous neighbour had amassed in the past were nothing compared to what was out there for Merlin. 

“That’s insane!” Merlin gasped, peering through the window at the crowds. “It’s like a film premiere or something! And who’s that bloke with the stick?”

Hunith, sitting between Merlin and Arthur on the back seat, pulled her son back from the window. “No, Merlin. They’ll see you!”

The windows were tinted, there was no way that the press would be able to see through, especially at that distance. Arthur decided not to point that out though. 

“It won’t last for long,” he promised. “They’ll have something new in a few days to report on. It won’t even be quite this bad in the morning.” 

He wasn’t entirely sure that he was being truthful. The Du Bois scandal would probably run for weeks. But no need to worry Hunith with that just yet. 

“I looked terrible on that show,” she told them. “At least I can walk Aithusa quite freely because nobody is going to recognise me without all that facepaint on! Honestly, they made me look like a clown!”

“Aithusa’s going to need to go out,” Merlin groaned. “Poor thing’s probably wondering where we are. How are we going to get him past that lot?”

Gwen had promised to pop in and take Aithusa for a walk earlier, but that would have been an hour or two ago. Aithusa was used to being able to run around in a garden. Although the park opposite was nice enough, for a country dog being cooped up in a flat wasn’t the best. Arthur would miss Hunith and Aithusa when they went home, but he knew Aithusa would be a lot happier living in Ealdor. 

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. 

“He’ll manage,” Hunith assured them. “I bought some doggie wee pads, just in case. They’re really for puppies, but he’s a very small dog, it should be okay. You have such a lovely flat, Arthur, I didn’t want him messing it up. But I can take him down to the car park and… well… it won’t be ideal but we’ll find a way around it. If this carries on I’ll take him to visit my aunt a few days early.”

Lucky Aithusa, Arthur thought. It wasn’t going to be much fun for the rest of them. And he wasn’t going to be very popular with the other residents either. There would probably be complaints at the next residents committee meeting. Still, Arthur had never been the subject of those before and probably wouldn’t be ever again, so they’d just have to deal with it.

There were a small number of reporters at the service entrance, unsurprisingly, and they rushed forward when they saw the car. But the building security meant that they couldn’t block the way, nor could they get particularly close. Soon enough the car was safely inside, the barrier back down and the doors closed behind them. All that the press had got were a few shots of a car with blackout windows. No way to even tell who was inside.

“Will Leon get this as well?” Merlin asked. 

“Probably,” Arthur admitted.

“It’ll scare Mordred.”

Everything scared Mordred, but that was hardly surprising given what had happened to him. 

“He’ll be okay,” Arthur promised. “Leon left people with him today. I think he was supposed to be working with a trauma specialist or something. I don’t know. I do know they’ll look after him. He’s in the best hands.”

Merlin still looked troubled. 

“I’ll call Leon and see how Mordred’s getting on,” Arthur promised as they headed for the lift. “And then we can watch us all on TV!”

The groans he got from both Merlin and Hunith soon put paid to that idea. 

“I definitely do _not_ want to see myself on TV again,” Hunith told him. “You can fast-forward over that part.”

“Mine too,” Merlin agreed. “I was horrible on there.”

“Oh no, you boys were wonderful,” Hunith assured him. She’d sat through the entire show in the green room even though she wasn’t going to come on live. “I was talking to Leon, he says the pair of you came across really well. Especially you, Merlin. I was so proud.”

Arthur tried not to let it get to him. But Merlin was so lucky to have Hunith. She was such a contrast to Uther.

“Why was Leon in the green room?” Merlin asked, because of course he didn’t appreciate his good fortune. 

“He doesn’t _really_ rush on at the last minute, _Mer_ -lin,” Arthur called back over his shoulder, glad of the change of subject.

Hunith laughed. “No, Gwaine thought that was funny as well. Though he was a bit disappointed that Leon wouldn’t let him go on too.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Gwaine was there?”

“Yes! I mean, I’m not surprised that the camera loved him, he’s very photogenic. Anyway, dear Leon was very impressed.”

“I bet he was,” Arthur muttered, getting into the lift and pressing the button. Gwaine would be _exactly_ Leon’s type. And Leon, rich and famous, would no doubt be exactly Gwaine’s type too. Match made in heaven, really. Gwaine was going to enjoy all the red carpet events, no doubt. Still, it would kill off his interest in Merlin, so not a bad thing at all. As long as Leon didn’t end up hurt.

“Oh, I think he said something about a job interview after the show, he had to go off to see about it. They have trainee positions. Gwaine was very interested.”

Arthur resisted the urge to repeat himself. For distraction he turned his phone on again. He wasn’t at all surprised at the number of messages and missed calls. This reminded Merlin, who turned his own on. There were a few beeps, but then only a handful of people had his number.

“Sounds as if you two are going to be busy,” Hunith smiled as they got out of the lift and headed along the corridor to Arthur’s front door. “I’ll see to Aithusa. I certainly won’t be looking at my phone until the morning. I can’t imagine the things that people on the local groups are saying! I’m sure I don’t want to know!”

Arthur was fairly sure that none of them actually wanted to know. He’d been on the show before and made the mistake of looking at social media afterwards. That wouldn’t be a mistake he would be making again.

Aithusa rushed to the door to greet them. Arthur knew he was going to miss the cute little mutt when Hunith took him back to Ealdor. Still, Aithusa’s interest was fleeting at best – Gwen was sitting in Arthur’s living room watching TV and appeared to be Aithusa’s new favourite. Understandable, Arthur thought, Gwen was everyone’s favourite.

“Hi Gwen!” Merlin called, pushing past Arthur and greeting Gwen with an enthusiastic hug. They were quickly becoming the best of friends, proving Arthur’s point. 

“Thank you for looking after Aithusa,” Hunith smiled. “I hope he hasn’t been playing up.”

“No trouble at all, he’s a lovely dog,” Gwen assured her. “I stayed till you got back because there’s an absolute circus out there and I was wondering if you wanted me to take him for a few days? He can sit in my office while I’m at work. It’s going to be very hard for you to take him out for walks at the moment.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Hunith agreed immediately. “But are you sure that’s not too much trouble?”

“None at all. And if it gets too much for you here then you’re welcome as well – I have a sofa bed that’s very comfy.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Hunith protested. “You barely know me!”

“But I know your son,” Gwen told her. “And he’s told me all about you. So. No arguments, if you feel uncomfortable then stay with me. I have an excellent gin collection…”

Hunith laughed, then gave Merlin a mock evil stare. “I don’t know what my son’s been saying…”

“It’s all true, Mum,” Merlin laughed. “And Gwen’s worse than you!”

Arthur left them to it and headed for the kitchen. His father had a very expensive collection of Scotch. Arthur could just imagine the reaction if he had tried to make a similar joke. 

To distract himself he started to go through his messages. Elyan and Gwen had both sent a few during the show, teasing him. There were some from people he hadn’t heard from since the last time he was on the show. He ignored those and skipped on through the rest. Du Bois Inc were requesting a meeting regarding his purchase… he ignored that and moved on to the voice messages. The one from his uncle was as angry and abusive as he had expected. Gone was any pretence of pleasantry. It was better, really, seemed more natural. There was a message from Gwen warning him about the crowd outside the flats, and several from journalists who had got hold of his private number. There was also one from a High Priest Alator, demanding that Arthur release the chosen one. Arthur deleted everything except the message from Agravaine, just in case Du Bois started harassing them and he needed evidence in the future. 

Finally there was a message from Percival, wanting to meet up. He’d seen the show and Arthur’s interest in Emily made far more sense to him. Although Emily hadn’t turned out to be Morgana, the aspect of the show dealing with the moral dilemma around clones was something Percival was keen to discuss.

It was a bit late to call, so Arthur sent him a message with a few possible dates. 

Though judging by the crowd outside, that particular weekend was going to be out. Arthur just hoped it would all be worth it.

\---

They spent Saturday in Arthur’s flat. 

There was no chance of going anywhere else, not with the press still camped out on their doorstep, although Hunith got bored by late afternoon and drove over to Gwen’s to take her up on her offer. Apparently being trapped in a flat with a new couple wasn’t high on her list of fun things to do. She managed to leave via the service gate and although she was photographed doing so she wasn’t of enough interest to actually get followed.

That left Merlin and Arthur with the place to themselves, and they spent the rest of the day and night making the most of it. 

“I could get used to just being locked in here with nothing to do,” Arthur commented at one point. It was a new thing for him, not working around the clock.

“You’ve got me to do,” Merlin grinned. 

They’d retired to the bedroom as soon as Hunith was safely away and didn’t bother emerging again until well into Sunday. Perhaps they would have stayed there all of Sunday as well, but halfway through the afternoon Arthur’s phone started ringing.

“Can’t you leave it?” Merlin asked. He was doing something particularly distracting with his tongue and Arthur definitely wasn’t going to answer a stupid phone call.

Ten minutes later it rang again, then bleeped with an incoming message. Merlin’s phone started ringing a few minutes after that.

“We could turn them off,” Merlin suggested.

Arthur considered it, but picked up the phone to see who had called. It was Leon, both times. 

“I suppose we’d better see what he wants,” Arthur sighed. He played the message back on speaker.

“Arthur, call me. Your uncle’s going on TV tonight to supposedly set the record straight.”

That was definitely not good. With a worried glance at Merlin, and keeping the speaker on, Arthur called Leon.

“Agravaine Du Bois is the main guest on _Vivien_ tonight,” Leon announced as soon as he answered his phone, not bothering with any pleasantries. “No prizes for guessing what he’ll be talking about.”

Vivien Olaf was beautiful, eloquent, and by all accounts the most unpleasant of people to work with.

Her talk show also had a fierce rivalry with _The Monmouth Report_. Anything Geoffrey and Leon could do, she could do better. Or so she liked to claim. In fact she lagged slightly behind them in the ratings. It was undoubtedly a sore point and she would be keen to get involved with the clone story.

“Can we do anything to stop it? Say they’ve stolen your story or something?”

Leon actually laughed at that, though it did sound a little bitter. “I wish! No, they’re supposedly going to be giving the _true_ story. It’s not great timing, the official investigation doesn’t even start until Monday and this is going to be fresh in everyone’s minds when it does.”

Arthur pursed his lips, trying to think of something, anything that they could do. He didn’t know that much about the world of media, that was Leon’s life. But he did know that if there was any way that Leon and Geoffrey could preserve their exclusive then they’d do so.

“Does my father know?” he asked. “Perhaps he can do something?”

“Geoffrey’s called Gaius, your father will be next. But it would be money versus money, two rich companies against each other. And I think Du Bois might have the edge. Other than buying people off, I don’t think there’s a lot anyone can do. The law was our best hope. Still is. What they’re doing isn’t exactly illegal because there’s no precedent set for something like that. I mean, people being brought back from the dead is a completely grey area. It’s not as if they’ve died for a few minutes and then been resuscitated. This seems to have been much longer. Laws will have to be created from scratch, but first it has to be proved that this is happening.”

“Merlin’s that proof. And Mordred.”

“How’s Mordred doing?” Merlin called down the phone.

“Better. Still slow progress. I haven’t told him about this yet. Look, can you two come over here? I’m assuming you’ve still got a media circus outside?”

“I think so,” Arthur confirmed. “And probably the religious nutters too.”

“Okay, better if you come here then. Nobody seems to have latched onto the fact that I’ve got Mordred here, at least not yet, so I’m not being bothered. We may as well all watch the show tonight together, work out what to do next. And having Merlin here seems to help Mordred. If this is bad, that might be useful. We’ve told him he’s safe. What if that’s not the case?”

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who had gone quite pale at those words.

“We’ll be there, see you later,” he said, and rang off quickly.

“Arthur…” Merlin began.

“No, now listen, you _are_ safe.”

“But why would he say that? What does he know that he’s not saying?”

“Nothing! He’s worried about Mordred, that’s all. Listen, in the very worst case scenario you’re officially my property, so nobody can take you away without my consent. And I would never give that.”

Merlin didn’t look convinced. His eyes were wide and fearful as he gazed back at Arthur. “But what if there’s some way around that? I can’t go back there, Arthur! They _know_ I’m sentient now. They’ll try to wipe my mind again. That hurt… it hurt so much!” He was breathing hard, sounding close to hyperventilating. “Can we just leave? Get out of here and run?”

“And abandon everyone else that this has happened to?”

Merlin bit his lip, looking for all the world as if he were about to burst into tears. His eyes were welling up. Arthur wondered just how very bad it had been. Merlin had described it, but that wasn’t the same as experiencing it.

“Merlin,” Arthur took his partner’s hands in his own, holding them to his chest. “If there was any way that I could somehow take away what’s happened to you I would, you know that. But there isn’t, and I’m so sorry that you had to go through it. And yes, we could run away and spend the rest of our lives hiding. But we’d always know that this was still happening, that other magic users would be going through exactly what you and Mordred have done. The only way to stop it is for victims to stand up and tell the world what’s happened. And at the moment the only one able to do that is you. I am so sorry,” he repeated, “but I don’t think you’d be able to live with yourself knowing that it was still happening and that you could have done something to stop it. And I know for certain that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Merlin gave a little sniff, and a tear spilled down his cheek. He pulled his hands free so that he could wipe it away.

“And we don’t know that Leon has any secret inside knowledge at all,” Arthur continued. “It would be very hard, after Friday’s show, for Du Bois to harm you in any way. You’re a public figure. Very famous. So try not to worry, okay?”

Merlin nodded, though he didn’t look at all convinced.

“Okay?” Arthur asked again, giving Merlin a gentle punch on the arm. “Stop worrying!”

“Ow!”

“What?”

“You hit me!”

“I barely touched you! It was a show of support and reassurance.”

“How is hitting me supposed to be reassuring?”

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again and shrugged. But it had produced the desired effect – Merlin was smiling after he’d finished his mock-complaining. Arthur just hoped that smile would still be in place after Agravaine had been on the _Vivien_ show.

\---


	15. Chapter 15

Leon’s apartment was quite crowded that evening.

Arthur and Merlin managed to escape the press without too much difficulty. Apartment security had mostly managed to barricade off the service road because residents had complained about the intrusion. This meant that Arthur could drive out unobserved. He still wore dark glasses and had a baseball cap jammed down on his head and Merlin still ducked down in the passenger seat until they were a couple of streets away and sure they weren’t being followed.

“Hah!” Merlin laughed, sitting up properly in his seat. “We’re brilliant! We should take a job as spies, sneaking in and out of buildings undetected! We’d be like James Bond except gay.”

“Does this mean you’ll be shagging every attractive man we come across?” Arthur queried. “Because I’m vetoing that!”

“Nah, I’ve got this posh totty, he’ll do.”

“Posh totty!”

“Uh huh. Double-oh 8, licence to be very posh. Rich, handsome, huge dick in every possible way… you’d like him, I’m sure.”

Arthur smirked. “Is that your list of reasons for being with me, Merlin? In order?”

Merlin shrugged, grinning at him. “Reverse order.”

“My father will be prouder than ever!”

Merlin’s smile faded at that. “Your father should be proud.”

“Well he’s not.” It was sad how quickly mention of Uther could bring the mood down. “But I was thinking, perhaps Hunith might like to adopt me. I’m fully house-trained, never forget birthdays… ah, and I wouldn’t steal from her purse to buy her a birthday gift either!”

“You’re funny. I still can’t believe Will had to pick that, of all things, to have me prove my identity to him.”

Will had been monosyllabic on _The Monmouth Report._ Worse than Merlin. 

“He’ll be living down that TV interview for a long time,” Arthur assured him. “I think you’ve succeeded in getting him back without even trying!”

“Yeah, poor Will. He’s still speaking to me though.”

Arthur knew it. Merlin’s phone was always beeping with some message or other from Will, and sometimes from Gwaine too though not so often in the past day or two. Still, Will was in Cardiff, and Gwaine seemed to be with Leon.

“Even though you’re sleeping with me?”

“Yes. He says I’m obviously still suffering the after-effects of what’s been done to me and I’ll soon see the light. Either that or I’ll just turn posh too.”

“That’s never going to happen!”

“True.” Merlin hummed happily, tipping back in his seat and putting his feet up on the dashboard. Arthur reached over and smacked the nearest leg, making Merlin laugh and sit back up properly again. 

“Aw, am I messing up your dashboard?”

“No. If some idiot driver causes a crash you’ll end up badly hurt or worse.”

Merlin beamed at him, sitting up ramrod straight in the seat. “I’ll behave.”

“Hah! I’ll believe that when I see it!”

They were heading into Leon’s road. Arthur was relieved to see that there weren’t any press around who had followed them over. He hoped they were all still gathered around his own apartment, waiting for Merlin or himself to emerge.

It was Gwaine who let them in. Arthur felt a vague, irrational irritation that the man was already making himself so comfortable at Leon’s place. But Gwaine was Merlin’s friend, so he did his best to hide that feeling. Even when Gwaine greeted Merlin with a hug. 

“Merlin! Did you bring your fans with you?”

“Fans?” Merlin queried.

“That mad bald bloke who’s sitting outside your building saying you’re the second coming because you came back from the dead. He was on the lunchtime news. He’s hilarious!”

Merlin glanced back at Arthur warily. “Really?”

Arthur had received a few more messages from High Priest Alator, as the man called himself, but he’d decided Merlin would be happier not knowing about them. He just shrugged. 

Gwaine had already moved on to another subject anyway. “Did you see me on the telly? Better get used to it, I’m working with Leon now. They say I’m a natural!”

Arthur resisted the urge to ask a natural what, and went past them, looking for Leon. Leon was sitting in the kitchen with Mordred and Gaius, while Geoffrey and Uther were out in the living room. Arthur could have done without his father being there but wasn’t surprised to see him. Of course Geoffrey would have called everyone who was on his show on Friday night. They’d need to watch Agravaine’s attempt to discredit them and then formulate a response.

“Arthur, finally,” Uther commented as soon as he saw his son. “So, how damaging do we think is this likely to be?”

Arthur really didn’t know, and said as much. 

“Your uncle is as slippery as a snake, Arthur. Always has been.”

“Apparently there will be other guests,” Geoffrey told him. “We don’t know anything about them. We’re assuming it will be people who can discredit Merlin’s story.”

Merlin, the traitor, sneaked past Arthur and headed for the kitchen, leaving Arthur with Uther and Geoffrey. “Just going to see Mordred,” he explained.

Uther fixed him with a hard stare, but didn’t stop him. 

“If that boy’s story isn’t genuine, Arthur. If there’s something we’ve missed and this is all some setup, it will be the end of Pendragon Robotics. We’ll never live it down.”

“Merlin’s genuine,” Arthur assured him.

“And the other one… he can’t even talk!”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed. “Sad, isn’t it?”

At least Uther had nothing to say to that.

\---

Mordred was considerably improved.

He still wasn’t managing entire sentences, but was just about able to utter single words. They didn’t always make sense, but it was a big step forward. He also no longer had a problem sitting with Leon. The journalist seemed to have earned his trust, though not as much as Gaius who was sitting with him and encouraging the use of his magic.

When Merlin entered the kitchen, all three men looked up. Mordred raised a hand in greeting. 

“Ah, it’s the most famous man in Camelot!” Leon grinned. 

“Fame is not all it’s cut out to be,” Merlin returned grimly. “We can’t even go for a walk in the park!”

“Give it a few days,” Leon promised. “They’ll move on, they always do.”

Leon probably had to deal with press attention regularly, Merlin supposed. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would take a job where you had to put up with that. 

“I’ll look forward to that,” Merlin told him. He sat down at the kitchen table next to Mordred. “Hi Mordred. You’re looking better.”

One tap. Then, after a pause, “yes.”

Merlin smiled. It was good to see Mordred finding himself again. “I’m glad. Gaius has helped me too. I’ve been learning to use my magic properly, and that helped me shake off the programming that Du Bois had put in place. I’m pretty much completely free of it now.”

“You look healthier than when I first met you,” Leon commented. “You’ve lost that fearful look that was haunting your eyes.”

“That’s cos you’re scary when people first meet you, man,” Gwaine told him. Gwaine had followed Merlin into the kitchen and plonked himself down on the chair nearest Merlin. “But he’s right. I guess Arthur’s not such a posh twat after all, must have something going for him!”

“That’s my best mate you’re talking about,” Leon warned.

“And my godson,” Gaius added. Merlin hadn’t known that, though it made sense seeing as Uther and Gaius had worked so closely for so long.

“And my boyfriend,” Merlin put in for good measure, before realising that perhaps he shouldn’t have said that.

“Boyfriend?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow though the expression lacked the power that Gaius could command by doing the same thing. “What happened to not starting a relationship with anyone right now? I _knew_ that was just an excuse because you wanted to get into Poshface’s pants!”

Merlin was about to protest, then had a better idea. “Um… where did you say you’re staying at the moment, Gwaine?”

Gwaine didn’t answer. He glanced sheepishly at Leon, then back at Merlin, then at Leon again. Then he started to laugh.

“Thought as much,” Merlin commented. 

“Leon’s been helping me mend my broken heart!” Gwaine claimed, still laughing.

“You need a heart to break in the first place,” Leon told him. 

“Oh, you wound me! Look, Merlin, I’ve had to settle for this cruel beast of a man because you cast me aside in favour of Poshface!”

But as Leon and Gwaine were smirking at each other perfectly happily, Merlin supposed that he’d done the pair of them a favour and didn’t exactly feel bad.

“Well,” Gaius said, looking around at them all. “This is all very pleasant but it’s getting a little crowded in here. Perhaps some of you would like to sit in the other room. Let Mordred and I have a little peace and quiet. Merlin, you stay.”

Neither Leon nor Gwaine appeared particularly keen on moving.

“I can be quiet,” Gwaine offered. “Just… sit here. You wouldn’t know I was here.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Gaius scoffed. “In the short time I’ve known you, Gwaine, I swear there hasn’t been more than a minute at a time where you haven’t had something to say!”

“I’m chatty! Mordred,” Gwaine turned to look at the silent member of the group. “You like hearing me talk, right?”

Tap. Tap.

“Thank you, Mordred,” Gaius looked quite smug. Gwaine looked stunned and slightly offended.

“That’s actually really good progress,” Merlin pointed out quickly to Mordred, before Gwaine said anything in retaliation. “You’re managing to reject the instruction to agree with everything. Well done.”

“Very helpful, Gwaine,” Leon added. “Come on, let’s go and rescue poor Arthur from his father.”

Gwaine looked quite mournful at that idea. “I don’t think Mr Pendragon likes me.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Leon attempted. “He just needs to get to know you.”

Somehow Merlin didn’t think that was going to help.

“Yes, don’t take it personally, Gwaine,” Gaius advised. “I’ve known him for about forty years now. It’s not you. He doesn’t like anyone!”

Even Mordred smiled a little at that. Definite progress. Perhaps Mordred was going to be okay. Merlin really hoped so.

\---

 _Vivien_ aired at 9pm that evening.

By that time, Leon’s living room was packed out. Gwen had brought Hunith and Aithusa over too. Merlin couldn’t help smiling at how uncomfortable Arthur’s father looked huddled in amongst everyone else. He was probably used to having his entire living room to himself, and probably sat on the plushest, most comfortable of chairs. Instead he had managed to commandeer the armchair in the corner, which meant that he had to twist slightly in order to see the screen. Merlin supposed that was preferable to the alternatives, which would have been either one of the kitchen chairs that had been brought in, or the beanbag Merlin and Arthur had grabbed, or being squashed up on the sofa with Hunith, Geoffrey and Gwen, Aithusa dangerously within licking distance of anyone who came near.

He couldn’t see Uther appreciating any of those options.

 _Vivien_ looked, on the face of it, rather more frivolous than _The Monmouth Report._ Merlin vaguely recalled seeing her show before, but generally his mother had always watched Geoffrey and Leon and not bothered with the young woman.

“It’s like movie night! We should have got popcorn!” Gwaine told them all. He was sitting on the floor beside the kitchen chair that Leon had taken, leaning against the other man’s legs.

Merlin didn’t need to look at Uther. He could imagine the expression Gwaine was getting. 

“This could ruin our business,” Uther said coldly. “I hardly think popcorn is a suitable accompaniment.”

Gwaine shrugged. “Caviar?”

Thankfully Uther decided to ignore that. Merlin glanced at Arthur, sitting on a beanbag on the floor beside him, and gave him a little nudge then a smile when Arthur looked round at him. 

Mordred was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs at the far end of the living room, in between Leon and Gaius. Merlin wondered if perhaps Gaius should have a more comfortable chair, being the eldest, but then it occurred to him that Gaius probably wanted to sit with Mordred. It might not even have been the best idea to let the traumatised young man watch the show.

Tristan and Isolde had also arrived but like Gwaine they had settled on the floor, leaning against the ends of the sofa. The room was full. It was fortunate that Leon’s job paid so well and he could afford a decent sized home.

The introduction to _Vivien_ was all glitter and sparkle, with the host prancing across the studio in a too-tight dress and spikey heels. It didn’t exactly scream serious reporting.

“That woman needs to have a word with wardrobe,” Isolde muttered. “She’s on a news show, not Love Island!”

“Not a great example for women’s rights,” Gwen agreed and Isolde nodded.

“I don’t think it’s women who watch her, generally,” Hunith told them. 

“Mary in make-up likes her,” Leon commented. 

“She prefers Gillian Anderson though,” Isolde replied. 

“To be fair, I think we all do,” Gwen grinned. “I mean, given the opportunity, would _any_ of us actually say no?”

There was a general consensus that Ms Anderson was a goddess. Merlin noticed that even Uther managed a smile. 

Vivien, however, was nothing of the sort.

“A female current affairs presenter,” Isolde grumbled to Gwen and Hunith as Vivien ran through the introduction to her show. “Peak time, Sunday night. Such a missed opportunity. This is not how we would have presented her.”

Vivien smiled brightly at the camera, oblivious to the disapproval in Leon’s living room.

“You might have seen the frankly incredible claims made on old Monmouth’s show last Friday. A sentient clone! Whatever next? Perhaps when I get home I’ll see if my clone George has any thoughts he wants to share with me while he’s giving me a foot rub!” 

She laughed, and the live audience in her studio laughed with her.

“Nothing says serious news like a studio audience responding to cue cards,” Geoffrey scoffed. “It’s not a comedy show my dear!”

“No, I think we can discount those ridiculous, slanderous claims. Here on _Vivien_ we want to give a voice to those on the other side of that story. And my main guest this evening is here to do just that. Ladies and gentlemen please welcome the founder of Du Bois Inc., Agravaine Du Bois!”

More clapping from the audience. Merlin watched as a dark-haired, middle-aged man strode across the studio, giving a rather smarmy smile to the audience then greeting Vivien with a kiss to both cheeks.

“Vivien darling, always a pleasure. And may I say how very lovely you’re looking this evening? You know, it’s a tragedy that there’s only the one of you. You really should consider donating some DNA, I’m sure we could come to a very profitable compromise.”

Vivien flinched. It was barely noticeable and she covered it quickly, but it was there. Perhaps she wasn’t quite as vacuous as people believed, Merlin thought.

“Gross,” Leon commented. “Imagine seeing yourself walking around, completely under someone else’s control.”

“Horrible,” Gwen agreed.

“Oh I don’t know,” Gwaine piped up. “Two Leons… three even… I can see the benefits! Perhaps Gwen and Merlin too? All of you, in fact!”

Leon lightly cuffed him round the head for that. “In your dreams!”

“Oh yes, that’ll be featuring now! Don’t wake me up tomorrow!”

Merlin laughed at them, until Uther shushed everyone.

“Listen.”

Agravaine had settled down on the couch in Vivien’s studio, leaning back in what Merlin guessed he must have thought was a relaxed pose. They were talking about the Friday interview.

“Well yes, we were disappointed to hear the claims made on the show. We knew that Pendragon were getting desperate, our clones have outsold their robots all year. I gather that there’s some sort of merger about to take place between Pendragon and one of the bigger companies…”

“Smaller!” Uther snapped. “Irritating little worm of a man!”

“So you think the claims were made out of jealousy?” Vivien asked.

“Desperation. I’m sorry to say it, as you know Uther was my brother in law until my dearest sister passed away, and Arthur is my beloved nephew. But I fear they’re more interested in money than family.”

Vivien nodded sympathetically. “It’s a tragedy when families are torn apart. There was something in the news recently at one of your receptions. Didn’t Arthur get very drunk and had to be escorted out?”

Merlin was very aware that most of the occupants of the room turned to look at Arthur.

“Untrue,” Arthur told them. “I’d had a few glasses but I got thrown out because I was questioning one of their clone models.”

“Arthur lost his mother at a tragically young age, and then his sister too. It’s small wonder the poor boy has turned to drink.”

Merlin heard Arthur curse under his breath. He found Arthur’s hand and covered it with his own, holding it tight. 

“Nobody thinks that,” he assured Arthur. 

“So he’s an alcoholic?” Vivien asked.

“Well…” Agravaine favoured the audience with his fakest smile. “I wouldn’t like to say that. The poor boy is my nephew. But he’s probably very lonely. I’m sure that believing this clone is a real person has been a great comfort to him.”

More laughter. Merlin lifted Arthur’s hand and held it close, rubbing it gently, reassuringly.

The interview continued in that vein right up to the first break. Vivien promised to return with further shocking revelations, smiled prettily for the camera, and was promptly replaced by an advert for teabags.

“We’ll be suing for defamation of character, of course,” Uther told them. “Arthur works harder than anyone.”

Arthur looked quite startled at that, but Uther, Geoffrey and Tristan had already started to discuss ways in which Agravaine could be held to account for the interview. It was probably exactly what Du Bois had done on the Friday.

“Are you okay?” Merlin whispered to Arthur.

“He was always going to come out with something about that,” Arthur replied. “It’s not true.”

Merlin hadn’t even considered that it could be. Arthur was hard-working and didn’t seem to have many friends outside of the people in that room with whom to go out and get drunk. Elyan was the only one who sprang to mind, and technically he was a work colleague. Small wonder he wasn’t great at holding his drink.

“We’d offered them the chance to come on this Friday’s show to give their side,” Tristan was saying. “No answer yet, but I suppose this show is an answer in itself.”

The interview dragged on. Agravaine smiled at the camera, smarmed at Vivien, stared at her boobs at least four times… and that was just in the first part. 

“That poor girl,” Hunith commented during the advert break. 

“She’s let herself be set up with that image,” Isolde pointed out.

“I expect that she’s been forced to do so, or move aside for some other pretty girl.” Hunith commented. 

“Setting feminism back,” Isolde argued. “A top show like this, it’s an opportunity to show serious presenting.”

“I’m not saying I like what she’s doing. It’s a dire show. But if it isn’t her then it would be someone similar. Did you see the way she flinched when Agravaine suggested cloning her? Probably her worst nightmare. If she doesn’t agree they could end up bringing out a replacement and nobody would know the difference.”

“That’s scary,” Gwen said to Hunith. “I’d never even thought of that aspect. They could replace anyone who gets in their way.”

“ _We’re_ getting in their way,” Merlin pointed out.

The room went very quiet. Mordred was gently rocking back and forth in his chair. 

“This has to be stopped,” Leon said. “All of it.”

Of that they were all in agreement.

Part two of _Vivien_ featured some clips from Friday night’s show, with Vivien and Agravaine going through selected segments.

“So how was the clone on Friday’s show able to appear to answer questions independently?” Vivien asked.

“Well, if you watch the interview back you’ll see that Arthur Pendragon, the owner of the so-called Merlin clone, is sitting right there next to him. See how many times the clone looks to its master, and how Arthur nods to it to show approval. This is simply proof of the clone’s authenticity. Obviously a skilled robotics engineer such as Pendragon will have found ways to tamper with the clone’s programming. Even if he hasn’t, the clones are programmed to obey. The thing will do whatever its master asks. That,” Agravaine said pointedly, looking to the camera, “is exactly what we program them to do.”

There followed a carefully edited playback of key moments from _The Monmouth Report_ that clearly showed Merlin looking to Arthur for reassurance.

“That wasn’t what happened!” Merlin exclaimed. “I was nervous, Arthur wasn’t coaching me or anything. I was on live TV! It was scary!”

On the screen there was a close up, slowed right down, of Arthur nodding to Merlin.

“You’ll remember stories of those supposedly clever horses at circuses and side shows who could supposedly count for themselves, then it turned out that their trainer was giving them a signal so that they knew what to do. That, I’m afraid, is all that’s happening here.”

Vivien smiled delightedly at the camera. “Well there you have it. Once again that bumbling old fool Monmouth has come up with a sensational non-story. Luckily here on _Vivien_ we are only interested in promoting the truth.”

“Oh that stuck-up little madam wouldn’t know the truth if it came and hit her in the face!” Gwen snapped. “Horrible woman! She tried to do a story with us once and when Arthur refused to go on her show she did a vicious piece again trying to portray him as an alcoholic, and Pendragon Robotics as being last year’s technology.”

“Actually Agravaine was on that as well,” Arthur recalled. “Promoting his clones, and making pointed remarks about me just like he is now.”

“What about the other one?” Vivien asked on the screen.

Agravaine smiled thinly. “Ah yes, Byron 163… or Mordred as they wanted to call him. Sadly that was a con trick. You noticed, I hope, that again it was Byron’s purchaser who was questioning him? Clones are extremely obedient and reliable. That one will have done exactly what its own required of it. You see that there is conveniently no family to back up the story?”

“Because the original was found on the streets?”

“Exactly. The truth is far simpler.”

The camera panned back to show a very smart and respectable-looking middle-aged couple sitting on the end of the sofa. They hadn’t been there when Agravaine had walked in and sat down.

“John and Olivia Black, thank you so much for agreeing to join us this evening. This must be so very hard for you,” Vivien said kindly.

“Mum!” Mordred exclaimed. He was on his feet, staring at the screen in shock. “Mum!” 

But that seemed to be all he was capable of saying. He looked desperately to Gaius, then back at the screen, pointing. Gently, Leon got him to sit back down again.

“I thought we’d established he had no family,” Uther said to nobody in particular.

“My wife and I are devastated that this has happened,” Mordred’s father told Vivien. “We were heartbroken at the loss of our son. When Mr Du Bois offered us the opportunity to have a clone, we weren’t sure. You can never replace the real thing.”

Mordred was tapping on the side of his chair. Two taps, then a break. Two taps.

It had to be so incredibly frustrating for him, Merlin thought. Gaius and Leon were both trying to work out what he was attempting to tell them.

“Are those your parents?” Leon asked.

“Yes.”

But then the tapping started again, definitely telling them no.

“Are they lying?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes.”

“Mordred, listen to me,” Gaius said gently. “We’ll hear what they say, and then try to work out the truth from what you can tell us. We’ll listen to them but that doesn’t mean that we believe them. Okay?”

One tap. Sometimes Mordred seemed able to manage a single word but at other times the tapping yes/no appeared to come easier.

“One of the services we provide at Du Bois is what we call a ‘unique’ clone,” Agravaine explained. “These good people came to us for help. We’re always glad to be able to comfort the bereaved. In fact, Uther Pendragon himself commissioned us to replicate his daughter after she sadly passed away. But sometimes the likeness is too great, and the bereaved don’t find that they can live with their clone. And that, sadly, is what happened with the Black family. And indeed with Uther too. In both cases the clones were returned to us and put on general sale. We had no idea that we were selling the Byron clone to a TV company.”

“We’ve not been able to sleep,” Mr Black put in. “Seeing what they’ve done to our son’s clone.”

“So like him,” Mrs Black said tearfully. “And yet unable to speak.”

“It was horrific,” Agravaine agreed. “Pendragon must have reprogrammed it in some way, very amateurishly of course. We’ll recall it, reprogram it if we can.”

Mordred was frantic, up on his feet again, knocking the chair over and making a dash for the door. He got into the hallway before anyone could stop him, then there was a crash and a scream of pain.

Merlin knew exactly what had happened. He abandoned the show and went out into the hallway with Gaius and Leon. Leon and Merlin crouched down beside Mordred who was sitting on the floor, holding his head. A glass vase was lying in pieces on the carpet beside him. Merlin vaguely recalled seeing it when he came in. 

“You can’t leave yet,” Merlin told him. “I tried to run from Arthur on my first night. What Du Bois did to us stays in your head and if you try to escape you get pain. But it will go. This won’t be forever.”

“Hurts.”

“I know. I don’t think you should watch the rest of this,” Merlin advised. He looked up at Gaius. “Perhaps you could sit with him?”

“We won’t let them take you back,” Leon promised. “Don’t worry about that. You’re safe now.”

“And you’re improving every day,” Gaius added. “Come along, let’s sit in the kitchen with the door closed. Boring sort of show anyway.”

Merlin watched them go, then went to work on picking up the broken shards from the carpet and wrapping them in an old newspaper that was in the recycling box by the door. 

Through the living room was the only way to get to the kitchen, and Mordred’s parents were still being interviewed, but Gaius kept talking to him the whole way. Leon grabbed the remote, muted the TV and switched on the subtitles until the door was safely shut. Only then did he flick the sound back on the TV.

“Is he safe?” Uther asked. “His parents just said that he’d run away a few times as a youngster and kept getting into trouble. Gaius is an old man.”

“The restraints are still in place,” Merlin called from the hallway, wrapping up the glass. He thought he’d got it all. “Everyone’s safe enough, even if he was a serial killer or something in his previous life.”

“And he wasn’t, just a lost and confused kid,” Gwaine added. “I’ll help Gaius.”

Of course, Gwaine knew all about not getting along with his parents, though in his case the parents had been more difficult than the child. It made Uther seem almost bearable in comparison. But not quite. Gwaine had been pretty wild and it seemed that perhaps Mordred had too. Yet Arthur was a model son whom anyone would be proud of. Even the awful Mr Black would probably have appreciated him.

“Is he okay?” Arthur asked as Merlin settled down beside him on the beanbag again. 

“Not really. What did I miss?”

“Apparently we used our sub-standard robot tech to reprogram him and it shows. Also his parents say they approved the cloning.”

“Well I certainly didn’t approve any cloning,” Hunith told them. “I suppose they thought I’d never know, living out in the middle of nowhere.”

“They might not have approved it,” Geoffrey commented. “Du Bois has a great deal of money. If the son was estranged anyway they might not be as emotionally attached.”

“There could be any number of street kids in the same position,” Leon agreed. “Nobody would know. They might not even have been dead first. Nobody would have reported them missing.”

“Horrible,” Gwen shuddered. Hunith took her hand and squeezed it. 

“I know. Try not to think about it too hard, you’ll never sleep.” 

“Difficult not to,” Gwen told her. She glanced across at Merlin, then tried to look closer. “Merlin, what’s that on your hand?”

Arthur took hold of Merlin’s hand, frowning at it. “You’re bleeding.”

He hadn’t noticed. “Mordred accidently smashed a vase. It’s nothing.”

But Arthur thought it was and insisted on cleaning it up in the bathroom and putting on a plaster.

“Are you going to kiss it better?” Merlin teased, then laughed when Arthur did just that.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Thank you Dr Pendragon!”

The cut was a little uncomfortable, deep enough that it would be sore for quite a few days but not so bad that there would be a lasting scar. 

“You’re so clumsy I’m surprised you’re not covered in them,” Arthur told him. 

“Hmm… I might be. Wanna check?” Merlin batted his eyelids coyly, making Arthur laugh again. It had to be better than watching Agravaine ripping them all to shreds in the living room. Kissing Arthur was better than most things, to be fair.

Some minutes later there was a knock on the bathroom door, followed by a not very discrete cough.

“Move it, you two!” Leon called through the door. He rolled his eyes at their slightly ruffled appearance a few moments later. “Honestly, Arthur, I think I liked it better when you were boring. You’d better not have defiled my bathroom…”

\---


	16. Chapter 16

_Vivien_ was a setback.

There was no other way of looking at it. Tristan and Geoffrey were putting plans in place for a response in Friday’s show, but damage had already been done.

Without speaking to Mordred’s parents there was no way of knowing whether or not they had genuinely requested a clone of their son, or whether it was a lie that they’d been paid to utter. Mordred himself didn’t know. Gwaine had managed to discover that Mordred hadn’t seen his parents for two years, and that he feared his father. The relationship with his mother was less clear, but if the father was a bully then the mother might well be cowed by him and agree to anything. She had said very little during the interview, just looked down at her hands or looked to her husband.

The press continued to congregate outside Arthur’s home, as did Alator and his followers. When Arthur and Merlin returned late on Sunday night the situation at the front was still impossible. And there was a note under the door from one of the neighbours, fed up with the situation. It wasn’t friendly.

Arthur read it, screwed it up and threw it in the recycling. That didn’t stop Merlin fishing it out and reading it himself. 

“It’s to be expected,” Arthur told him. “We’d probably be just as angry if it was one of the other residents causing this.”

“With their ‘toy sex dolly’?” Merlin queried. “Nice.”

“Oh, the toy sex dolly _is_ very nice,” Arthur grinned. “The anonymous author is probably just jealous!”

“What can we do though? The press aren’t going away. _Vivien_ just made it worse.”

Arthur pursed his lips thoughtfully. There was a way that might work, or at least improve things. Merlin wasn’t going to like it though…

And so, on Monday morning (by which time a second note had appeared), Arthur and Merlin walked down to the foyer.

The block manager came rushing out from her office almost immediately, alerted by the receptionist. She almost tripped over her own feet in her haste. “Mr Pendragon, I hope you’re not intending going out there!”

Through the clear front of the reception area they had been spotted by the press. There was an actual surge when the journalists rushed forward to press against the glass. 

“Now I know what a fish feels like,” Merlin muttered. “This is a horrible idea, Arthur.”

The manager, whose name badge identified her as ‘Elena Godwyn’, openly stared at him for a moment, then turned her attention back to Arthur.

“Your clone… um… I mean… him, he’s correct. Going out there would be a mistake. We couldn’t be responsible for your safety.”

“His name’s Merlin,” Arthur told her shortly, “and all this is because we’ve identified that he’s no clone. Do you not watch the news at all?”

Chastised, Elena blushed. “I’m sorry, Mr Pendragon. I just don’t know what… um… I… oh dear.”

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Arthur guessed. He hadn’t seen her before. But then he hadn’t ever really needed to speak to the building management. Mostly he’d nodded to the receptionists and the security guards as he’d entered and left the building. A few times he’d been in when the window cleaners did their rounds. That was about it. Elena might have been there for years.

“Three weeks. Yes.”

“And you get landed with this to deal with,” Merlin noted sympathetically. “Don’t be sorry, Elena, I’m the one who should be sorry for causing all this trouble for you.”

“Oh.” If anything the poor woman looked even more flustered. “Oh. Well…”

“We’re going out there,” Arthur told her firmly. “We’re going to try to give them what they want in the hope that they’ll go away.”

“I don’t think they will,” Elena said. 

“But there might be fewer of them if they’ve had some statements. Also we’ll ask them to leave and threaten them with the press complaints commission on behalf of the residents association. By law they will have to leave. Although they’ll probably just wait across the street,” he added with a sigh.

“I think this is a bad idea,” Elena told him. “I’ve already tried asking them to leave.”

Poor Elena was so flummoxed just at seeing them in reception that Arthur could well imagine how firm she’d been in talking to the press. And Merlin was right, it was a miserable thing to deal with in a new job.

“Why don’t you come out with us, we’ll put on a united front?” Arthur suggested. 

“Well… okay.” Elena did not sound at all keen. If she’d already had to go out there and try to get the press to move on then that was understandable.

“First, can you arrange to have my car brought up to the front?” Arthur asked. “Then we’ll all go out, try to appease them, we’ll drive off and you can hopefully go back to something like normal.”

“This isn’t going to go away though, is it?” Elena pointed out. “There’s talk this morning on the news about a politician getting involved. This is going to carry on for a long time.”

“If it gets too bad we’ll move in with my father for a while,” Arthur promised. He tried to ignore the dismay on Merlin’s face at that idea. It wasn’t something that Arthur was keen on either, but Uther had good security and it wouldn’t disturb anyone else. “Let’s just see how things go.”

“What politician?” Merlin wanted to know when Elena hurried back to her office to arrange the car move.

“Leon’s bringing her in later. One of the left wingers, Father’s going to love her. But she’s an ex-solicitor, really big on human rights. Mithian Nemeth. Ever heard of her?”

Merlin’s eyes went wide. “I love her! She’s really posh, but she gets herself right in the middle of protests and stuff. She nearly got arrested a few times during all that fuss last year when they tried to reduce statutory maternity pay. And she’s always shouting at the prime minister for being a privileged arsehole during Question Time. She’s great! She should be in charge of the country!”

“Well she’s going to start shouting on your behalf, so try not to fanboy over her too much. Though Leon’s probably already done that.”

“Mithian Nemeth though!” Merlin was grinning. “I need to call Will. He wants to marry her!”

“Who’s getting married?” Elena asked, coming back. She’d made some attempt to tidy her wild blonde hair, but it was already escaping from the clip she’d put it in. 

“Nobody,” Arthur assured her. “Merlin’s friend has a crush on Mithian Nemeth.”

“Oooh me too!” Elena gushed. “She’s gorgeous! I saw on TV this morning that she’s getting involved. Is she coming in here?”

“No,” Arthur said shortly. He felt like he’d walked into Nemeth’s fan club meeting. 

“She might!” Merlin told Elena, with no grounds whatsoever for saying so because he hadn’t even met the woman. “We’re going to meet her later. I could see if she’ll sign a picture or something?”

“Ooh yes!” Elena actually clasped her hands together.

Arthur rolled his eyes but they both ignored him. 

“Did you see her a few weeks ago?” Elena continued. “There was a young mother in her constituency being threatened with eviction. She had the landlord arrested…”

“No.” The smile faded from Merlin’s face. “A few weeks ago I was inside Du Bois Inc. They didn’t let us see televisions or anything like that.”

Elena’s mouth made a silent ‘O’, then she reached out to touch Merlin’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “It’s real, isn’t it? Everything you said on Friday? Talking to you now… _you’re_ real. This isn’t a trick. Oh my god, and that awful man last night on _Vivien_ making out it’s a con _…”_ Suddenly Elena seemed much more determined and confident. “Well he’s not getting away with it. And you two aren’t moving out. Come on, let’s sort those vultures out.”

And she marched towards the door. Arthur wondered if she was channelling her heroine/crush Mithian. At any rate, it was an improvement on the initial impression that she’d given.

It lasted at least until they got through the doors. And then it was bedlam. Flashes went off, people were shouting questions all over the top of one another. Alator and the group of followers he seemed to have amassed all raised their arms above their heads and closed their eyes, chanting something. Perhaps they were praying? Merlin just stood there staring at everything that was happening, his mouth open. Elena tried calling for quiet but nobody listened to her. In the end Arthur held his hand up for silence. That, at least, worked.

“Thank you,” Arthur told them. “I don’t know how you expect to hear us say anything if you’re all screaming at us like that. Now, if we answer your questions, and let you take some pictures, will you agree to move away from the front of the building? Other people live here and you’re harassing them when they come into their own home. Miss Godwyn here will be making an official complaint to the press complaints commission if you don’t cease and desist. We’re formally telling you that you are to leave the premises. And in return we will answer your questions. If that isn’t agreed then no comment, ever. Agreed?”

There was a murmur of discontent amongst the crowd, but generally they were nodding their heads. Alator and company continued their chanting but at least it was fairly quiet.

“Thank you. And nobody in this building other than Merlin and myself has anything to do with this story. Stop harassing them. If you don’t we will have to move out.”

“And we don’t want that,” Elena added. “So, questions, one at a time.”

The shouting started up again. 

“All hail the chosen one!” Alator cried, and his followers echoed the sentiment.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and raised his hand once more.

“Do you actually like not being able to hear yourselves think?” he asked the crowd. Some of them laughed. “Hands up for questions, Miss Godwyn will officiate.”

Elena looked quite pleased at that. She pointed to one of the women at the front. “You in the red jacket.”

“Is it true that the clone here is just doing what you tell him?”

“That would be nice,” Arthur told her. “Sadly however, Merlin does whatever he thinks. As I said on Friday, it was apparent almost immediately that he had a mind of his own. I’m used to dealing with robots and I’d expected the clones to be similar. It was a shock to see independent thought. But since then I’ve encountered a few other clones and there does appear to be sentience.”

“So you think they’re all alive?” the woman asked.

“Worryingly, yes. I think there’s a horrendously cruel industry going on, and we’ve only uncovered the tip of the iceberg. I do think there are different degrees of consciousness though. Merlin is quite exceptional.”

Elena pointed to a heavily bearded man who was standing a little further back. “Gentleman with the beard next.”

“What about the claims from Mordred Black’s parents? He’s definitely a clone.”

“He’s definitely not,” Merlin answered angrily. 

That prompted a flurry of activity as everyone scrambled for a photo or video footage. Arthur thought that Alator might actually pass out from excitement at hearing Merlin speak. The praying had started again. 

“I was there in Du Bois factory… or whatever it is. He was crying and screaming so they took him away. Whatever they did to him, he’s been damaged by it. Du Bois and everyone who works for him should be locked up. And I don’t know how Mordred’s parents can sit there and say that’s not their son. My mum knew me right away. And our pet dog too.”

“The dog recognised him immediately,” Arthur confirmed.

“Wouldn’t the dog think that any clone was its master though? If it was made from its master’s DNA?”

“Perhaps,” Merlin admitted. “We don’t know, because a clone wasn’t made. What they’re doing to people is horrific. They’ve discovered a brilliant strand of magical medicine that could be used to save people and instead they’re using it to boost up the number of supposed clones that they can produce.”

“That’s sick,” one of the journalists at the front told them.

“Oh come on, Tyr, you don’t believe this crap,” the man next to him scoffed. “He’s looking to Pendragon all the time. It’s a con.” He folded his arms and stood up a little straighter. “Don’t fool me.”

“I do believe him,” Tyr nodded to Merlin. “I’ve never been comfortable with clones. They can bleed and die. They have heartbeats. They breathe. It’s not right. Even before all this came up. Not right at all.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said. “Who’s next, Elena?”

“Question to Arthur,” came the next enquiry. “What’s it like sleeping with an animated dead body? Do you feel as if you’re engaging in necrophilia?”

“All hail he whose coming has been prophesised since the dawn of time!” Alator cried. Several of the journalists picked up on the unintentional double entendre and started laughing.

And from there it all went downhill. But at least, at the end, the press moved away and headed back to their offices with their stories. Alator and his friends sat down on the forecourt, cross-legged, and started communing with the spirits. Or something. Arthur didn’t really want to know.

He had very little hope that the peace and quiet outside their home would last for long.

\---

Leon was waiting for them at Pendragon Robotics. He had Mordred and Gwaine with him, and also Mithian Nemeth.

“Hello, Merlin,” Mithian greeted him as soon as they stepped through the door. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Leon here has been telling me so much about you.”

Mithian was, Merlin thought, even more lovely in person. Smart and beautiful, and fiercely intelligent. It was very lucky that Will wasn’t there. He’d definitely have embarrassed himself, and probably her too. Uther, thankfully, wasn’t there either. Merlin supposed that he was unlikely to share Mithian’s politics and would probably have ended up having a massive argument with her.

Mithian, though, was all business. She had a vast list of questions for them, all of them infinitely more intelligent than anything that Camelot’s media had come up with earlier. Merlin was feeling exhausted by the time she’d finished. And that was before he’d even started that day’s training with Gaius.

“I’m going to start off by trying to get a private members bill through parliament,” Mithian explained, looking through her notes after she’d finished interrogating them. “It’s unlikely to get through, but it raises awareness of the issue, and then we take it from there. I’ll garner support. There are quite a few of us who have never felt particularly comfortable with the whole cloning process. The morality behind it is questionable at best. Personally I only use your robots, Arthur. I have a lovely one that keeps my house and garden immaculate.”

“I think my mum would like one of those,” Merlin smiled. 

“Definitely,” Gwen put in. She’d been sitting in on part of the meeting. “She’s asking for one like mine. Very impressed with the cleaning mode. I think she’ll be expecting one for Christmas, Arthur!”

Arthur didn’t even put up a fight, just nodded and smiled. “We’ll sort one out for her.”

“Are you trying to steal my mum?” Merlin queried.

“Yes. She’s already said I can come over any time I want.”

“She loves me best.”

“For now,” Arthur teased. “Give it a year or two.”

“Steal my mum and you’re dumped!” Merlin laughed. “Aithusa’s always going to be loyal to me anyway.”

“Is Aithusa your dog?” Mithian asked. “That was a telling reaction from him that you described. He looked a real cutie on the show.”

“He’s adorable,” Gwen confirmed. “I’m going to miss him when they go back home.”

Merlin was going to miss them more, he was certain. But they could visit her, and when things calmed down his mum would want to visit them again too.

“I’ll have questions for your mum too,” Mithian told Merlin. “Always good to hear what the family have to say. And your friend Percival as well, Arthur. If he has an actual clone who is achieving some sort of sentience then that’s exactly what we need. Proving all this is the biggest obstacle. But we’ll do it.”

“I hope so,” Merlin said. “It’s really scary, not officially existing.”

Arthur reached out and took his hand, squeezing it sympathetically. 

Mithian smiled kindly at him. “I can’t imagine what it must be like. I’ll do everything I can, I promise.” She got to her feet. “I think I’ve got enough for now. I’ll call if I think of anything else. And don’t worry about all the rubbish Agravaine Du Bois came out with on TV last night. Now that I’ve met you, and you too Mordred, I’m quite convinced. It’s going to be very hard to prove without any doubt that you’re not sentient clones rather than the original humans, but if we can put a stop to the cloning industry then everything will move forward from there.” She circled the room, shaking hands with them all. Mordred stared at her and took a moment to shake the hand she offered. 

Merlin wondered whether perhaps he had always been a little odd anyway, then silently chided himself for such an uncharitable thought after everything Mordred had been through. 

“I’ll show you out,” Gwen offered, escorting Mithian to the door.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Gwaine gave a low whistle.

“Oh, she’s far too hot to be wasted in politics!”

“Gwaine…” Leon warned. 

“Well she is! Anyway, she’s on our side, that’s the main thing.”

Everyone seemed to have crush on Mithian. Guiltily, Merlin remembered his promise to Elena. But it hadn’t seemed appropriate. There would be other opportunities. 

The future was starting to look brighter again.

\---

“So,” Leon smiled, “how are you enjoying fame?”

Arthur scowled at him. Merlin and Mordred were both with Gaius, working on developing their magic. Gwaine had stayed to keep an eye on Mordred, which had left Arthur and Leon. They could have gone back to work, but it was early afternoon so instead they’d gone for a rare opportunity to catch up over lunch, sitting in the sheltered garden of a nearby pub. They’d spent so much time together at uni, but since graduating they’d both led separate lives. It was good to see more of Leon, even if it was only temporary. And even if he was a sarcastic git sometimes.

“What do you think? The reporters were squashed up against the reception windows! Is that why they call you all the press? Because of the… pressing?”

“Funny. And no.”

“Their questions… one bloke asked me how I liked sleeping with a dead body! I mean, really!”

Leon actually looked pleased at that. “Oh, but that’s good.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Arthur, it means they believe you, they believe Merlin. Most likely the reporter asking the question thought he was being funny, but by making that joke he’s actually backing up the claims we’re making. It’s good. Hang on, I’ll message Tristan, get him to look that one up on social media and start using it to our advantage. Don’t suppose you recall which news agency they were from?”

“Sorry.”

“No worries,” Leon finished up his text, sent it off then put the phone down on the table. “I’ve seen some of your impromptu question and answer session this morning, though not that bit. Nice job, but you don’t honestly think that’ll keep them away?”

Arthur had no illusions about that. “I had to try something. We were getting complaints from the neighbours.”

“Hmm. Half of your neighbours are people whose fame has faded. They’re probably jealous.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Jealous? Leon, it’s been insane. Why would anyone court this? Doesn’t it drive you mad?”

“I’m not that famous.”

That was a lie. Leon Knight was a household name. But he didn’t attract reporters sitting outside his door. Not yet anyway.

“You’d have the same problem if they knew where Mordred’s based.”

“Perhaps.” Leon fiddled with his beer glass. “Mordred’s not as famous as Merlin though. So I’m hoping that won’t happen. He’s already really jittery.”

“That might ease as he recovers?”

“Perhaps. But Mordred’s a mess,” Leon sighed. “I don’t know how much we can help. Gwaine’s been brilliant with him, really patient.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I was. I took Gwaine on because he was so good on camera.”

“Natural show off.”

“Yes,” Leon admitted. “But that’s not a bad thing in my industry. He’ll do really well. We’re looking to see if he can transfer some of his uni credits to a more suitable part-time course, though to be honest just working with us is going to be enough to kick-start his career.”

“And then he’ll be off,” Arthur warned. “Don’t get attached.”

“I don’t know that he will be. I know he’s all full of it, but there’s another side to him. He’s been sitting with Mordred since Mordred’s parents turned up on TV, asking him questions I wouldn’t even have thought of. Gwaine isn’t exactly close to his parents. Seems they’re bonding. Well, as much as anyone can with Mordred.”

“Still, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’m not a kid, Arthur. Do you honestly think in my job that I don’t have people coming on to me just because I’m that bloke on _The Monmouth Report_?”

“I’m sure you do. But Gwaine’s… I don’t know. Seductive.” Arthur broke off a piece of bread from his ploughman’s and chewed it thoughtfully.

“You mean he took Merlin on a date once,” Leon nodded to himself. “You need to get over that. Merlin’s only interested in you, anyone can see that. And Gwaine’s moved on. Get to know him, he’s a good guy. He likes you.”

Arthur gave him a quizzical look. “Really, Leon?”

“Well… a bit. He doesn’t hate you. Just make an effort for my sake, okay?”

Arthur pouted a bit. “He calls me Poshface.”

Leon stared at him for a moment, then started laughing. “Arthur, you are one of the poshest people I’ve ever met! I thought I was posh, and then I got you as a roommate at uni and realised I’m just a commoner in comparison!”

“Dream on.”

“Okay, we’re both posh. But look at our blokes. Scruffy pair from the depths of Wales. Couldn’t be less posh if they tried.”

“I sometimes think Merlin _does_ try,” Arthur admitted. 

“To be posh?”

“Hah! No, definitely not.”

“Everything your father ever wanted for you,” Leon snorted. “Worse than me! Remember when he got that idea into his head that you and I were an item?”

Arthur remembered it well. Leon had been staying with them during the summer break and Uther had discovered Leon’s left-wing tendencies just at the same time as Arthur had come out. “Oh yes. The commie gay roommate who had corrupted me in all things. And then you took my sister out on a date and his head nearly exploded.”

“Bisexuality is so complicated,” Leon smirked.

“Morgana and I got a holiday out of it. I can’t remember any other time when Uther organised a spontaneous holiday abroad. They were normally planned a year in advance. We were all on a plane the following evening.”

“And I was on my way home!” Leon laughed. “He still gives me suspicious looks sometimes, even now.”

Arthur laughed at the memory of Leon’s stunned expression, standing there at the railway station, his bags at his feet and a ticket in his hand.

“I didn’t even do more than kiss her! I mean… my best friend’s sister? She couldn’t have been in safer hands.”

“I know. And Morgana and I had a great holiday. She met an Italian waiter. Actually, so did I! I think our father sat in his hotel room the whole time trying to keep up with work. Morgana was okay for a while, after that. That was the best summer, I think. When I came home at Christmas she’d changed. The visions had got worse. And then… well, by the time I’d finished uni and come home for good she was in a bad way.” Arthur gazed sadly down at his lunch, losing his appetite for it. “I still miss her.”

“She was lovely, your sister. Sharp, witty and beautiful. Such a waste. To Morgana,” Leon raised his glass and Arthur followed suit.

They were silent for a few moments, remembering her. Then Leon reached over and stole one of the pickled onions from Arthur’s plate, resulting in a tit-for-tat theft of some cheese and a lightening of the mood.

“Gwaine won’t appreciate your onion breath!”

“Oh? Have you _met_ Gwaine? Onion central! Is it a Welsh thing? Is Merlin the same?”

Arthur smiled, just at the mention of his name. “I’ve not noticed.”

“Oh god, it’s love. Look at your face!” Leon grinned, using the distraction to steal another onion. 

“What?”

“It’s good to see you happy,” Leon told him. “Suits you.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that. 

\---


	17. Chapter 17

The next few days were comparatively quiet. The press didn’t go away, but their numbers were substantially lessened. Mithian had prepared an impressive speech for Friday to accompany her attempt at getting her bill through Parliament. Leon and Geoffrey were working on the Friday evening edition of _The Monmouth Report_ , which was going to focus entirely on Mithian’s bill and what it would mean for clones. Arthur could see Merlin’s confidence increasing with every passing day. It felt as if there was going to be a change, and soon.

On Thursday morning Arthur dropped Merlin off at Pendragon Robotics to spend the day with Gaius and work on strengthening his magic. It was a rare day for them without Mordred, who had been sitting in on the sessions that week. Mordred was hard work and tiring because of the communication problem, and Gaius had requested a day just with Merlin. That had suited Gwaine and Leon, who were filming a piece with Mordred for the Friday show.

For most of the week Arthur had worked at Pendragon Robotics too, simply doing his job. It had been good to see Merlin at breaks, and then for the two of them to go home together. Merlin was always full of what he’d learned. It felt right, how coming home should feel. 

But Thursday was the day that Percival had agreed to meet Arthur, and so Arthur worked from home for the morning then drove out to Percival’s house in the suburbs early in the afternoon. It was a sunny day, and it felt good once he was out of the city centre to be driving along with the window rolled down. 

Without Uther there, Percival was far less guarded. He greeted Arthur with a warm handshake, though Arthur was glad the man didn’t squeeze too hard. Looking at the muscular bodybuilder Arthur supposed that he wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. Yet to Emily, Morgana’s clone, he was all kindness and adoration.

The three of them sat in the garden, Emily bringing them out long cold drinks and sandwiches. 

“She’s an angel,” Percival beamed, tucking in and indicating that Arthur should do the same.

Emily smiled back at him. She was so unlike Morgana, Arthur wondered how they sprang from the same DNA. She reached out and took a small sandwich herself, daintily nibbling at it.

“You don’t eat the clone food that Du Bois provided?” Arthur queried.

Emily pulled a disgusted face that reminded Arthur so much of Merlin that he laughed. “Ah, that’s exactly Merlin’s reaction to it!”

“We did use it at first,” Percival admitted. “But it ran out at a time when I… um… had some financial problems at the gym. It’s all sorted out now but for a while I was saving money wherever I could. And it was a lot cheaper if Emily and I just ate the same thing.”

“I’m betting that’s around the time that you noticed Emily developing a personality?” Arthur queried.

“Yes.”

“The clone food is quite disgusting,” Emily told them. “I’m much happier eating the same food as Percival. Although in smaller amounts of course!”

She could joke, Arthur realised. That first clone, Chloe, the one that he’d encountered at the reception, she’d had no sense of humour at all. 

“I examined the food Merlin had been given,” Arthur offered. “It was full of proteins and vitamins, but it was also full of drugs aimed at suppressing emotions and keeping the clones docile. That, combined with the programming, makes things difficult. Merlin’s managed to shake it all off, but Mordred…”

“The other non-clone on the show?” Percival checked.

“Yes. He’s finding it more difficult to break free of what’s been done to him. With both of them, they have magic. And they’re fighting to regain themselves.”

“I do not have a previous self to regain,” Emily pointed out. “I am a clone.”

“One with consciousness,” Arthur said. “That’s important. What’s happened with Merlin and Mordred is appalling, but with you, Emily, there’s a whole other issue. Du Bois suppressed clones so that they would appear simply a sophisticated upgrade from our robots. But you’re not. If you’re allowed to develop, like you have been, we can see the person. You’re not a clone, Emily, you’re a person. Don’t ever lose sight of that.”

Percival leaned back in his chair, regarding the pair of them, a huge smile on his face. “Thank you,” he said to Arthur. “This is exactly what Emily and I have known for ages. But if you say anything then people think you’re insane.”

“You’re not,” Arthur assured them. His phone was ringing in his pocket, but he ignored it. “Emily was created from my sister’s DNA, and my sister had magic. It might be that Emily has inherited a little of that, which may along with the lack of suppressants be helping her shake off some of the programming.”

“I don’t have magic,” Emily told him. “I wish I did. It looks fun.”

“Morgana was a seer, she had visions and they weren’t fun at all. Merlin’s magic is very different to that, and we don’t yet know what shape Mordred’s took. You might just have a little, just enough to help you and nothing more.”

“It’s fascinating,” Percival commented. “Sort of makes me wish I’d gone into science. But, you know, you take what works best for you!” He picked up the last sandwich and put the entire thing in his mouth, then looked guiltily at the empty plate. “Ah, sorry.”

“I’ll get some more sandwiches,” Emily offered. “And cake. I made a cake this morning. Do you like cake, Arthur?”

“I love cake, Emily” Arthur smiled. “Thank you.” He watched her walk back to the house, humming to herself happily. Unlike Morgana again, Morgana had always liked to sing. 

“She’s lovely, Percival. Nothing like my sister at all though. Morgana would have thrown the cake at you if you’d asked her to bake one!”

“Emily can get a bit stroppy,” Percival assured him. Arthur couldn’t imagine it from what he’d seen. “But she does like to bake.”

“What if she changes? If Mithian’s bill goes through, and there’s some restraint on clones that we’ve not discovered yet? What if she’s not as sweet and compliant at the end of it?”

Percival shrugged. “Then we’ll deal with it. I’d rather she was happy and free, even if I lost her as a result. But I hope I won’t.”

That was actual love then, Arthur realised. “I hope you won’t too,” he told Percival seriously. “And from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you will. You know, it would really help if you two were willing to talk to Mithian?"

“Happy to talk to her. Not so sure about that journalist friend of yours though.”

“Perhaps just talk to him? Not on camera, just hear what he’s trying to do? Tomorrow night’s show is going to be all about Mithian’s bill. He can protect your identity if you’re worried.”

“Maybe,” Percival said cautiously. “I suppose you can give him my number.”

Arthur’s phone started ringing again.

“Shouldn’t you get that?” Percival suggested.

Arthur glanced at it to see who was calling. Leon’s name was coming up on the screen, someone he actually wouldn’t mind speaking to. He could break the good news that Percival and Emily might be willing to talk.

“Hi, Leon. What’s the story?”

Leon ignored the poke at his chosen career, just as he always did. “Check the news, Arthur. Mithian was on breakfast TV this morning, talking about the bill she’s bringing in tomorrow. And now Du Bois is recalling hundreds of clones, particularly the unique range. Apparently they’re faulty. No prizes for guessing who’s going to be on top of the list.”

Arthur felt a thrill of horror run through him. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, there was bound to be some sort of retaliation. Still, it was faster than he had expected. One hand still holding the phone to his ear, Arthur turned on the TV and switched to a news channel. There was Agravaine Du Bois, standing on the steps of his main offices, smiling benignly at the camera. Rolling across the bottom of the screen there were the words: “Du Bois Clone Scandal – line recalled”.

“Oh no…” Arthur breathed. “Well he’s not having Merlin back!”

“No,” Leon agreed. “Nor Mordred. We just had people at the door, trying to collect him. Gwaine told them he’d run off but I don’t think they believed him. Where is Merlin right now?”

“With Gaius, at Pendragon. He’s there all the time now, Gaius is teaching him to use his magic.”

“Better make sure he has someone trustworthy with him when he leaves,” Leon advised. “And a security guard if you can. I’ve seen this before. The quickest way to make sure a story goes cold is to hide the evidence.”

“Or kill the evidence,” Arthur supposed. He felt faintly nauseated at the thought. “I’m heading over there.”

“Be careful, Arthur.”

This from a man who always leapt at the chance to report from the most dangerous places on earth. Leon was one to talk about being careful.

“I swear I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Arthur promised, and hung up, immediately searching for Merlin’s number. Gaius’ office number was right there from an earlier call, so Arthur called that instead. Merlin tended to turn his phone off when he was learning magic, not wanting the distraction. Gaius might be quicker to answer.

Percival regarded him worriedly. “Trouble?”

“Du Bois are recalling all the unique clones. You might want to take Emily away for a few days, somewhere quiet, just until this is over.”

Percival opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur held up a finger for quiet as Gaius had answered.

“Gaius, it’s Arthur. Is Merlin still with you?”

“No, he left about twenty minutes ago,” Gaius replied. Arthur’s heart sank. 

“Did he take a car?”

“I don’t know, Arthur. Elyan had a question and by the time we’d finished Merlin had gone.”

Arthur wasn’t entirely surprised. The weather outside was good, and Merlin was probably bored with being cooped up inside. Merlin also seemed to think a simple beanie hat was enough of a disguise that he wouldn’t be spotted. And it was true, he’d tried it the previous evening and hadn’t got bothered by anyone who had recognised him from the show while he was wearing it. But Arthur had been at his side, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. If Merlin had chosen to walk home that day he would be alone.

Du Bois probably had people watching, waiting outside the building. It might already be too late.

“Call the front desk, just in case he’s still around.” Merlin adored Gwen, there was a chance he might have stopped by her office before leaving. “If he’s still in the building don’t let him leave.”

“Why, whatever’s happened Arthur?” Gaius sounded understandably concerned.

“Du Bois are recalling clones. They’ve already gone for Mordred. Just… start a search at that end and keep him safe. I’ll try his phone.” Arthur rang off and immediately tried Merlin’s phone.

Percival had got up and opened the door, calling to Emily.

The phone went straight to voicemail. Arthur prayed that was simply because Merlin had either forgotten to turn it back on after finishing with Gaius or because he was chatting to Will. Or perhaps Gwaine had called him and warned him and they were talking?

“Merlin, when you get this, call me immediately! Du Bois are recalling clones and they’ll be coming after you. If you’re outside go somewhere with as many people as possible, and then take off that hat. It’ll be harder for them to take you if people have recognised you. Call me back, Merlin.”

“No luck?” Percival asked.

“He turns his phone off,” Arthur explained. “I need to go. You go, take Emily somewhere safe. I’ll call you when I know more about what’s going on.”

“No, I’m coming with you,” Percival told him. “We should all stick together. And no offence, but getting past me is going to be a great deal harder than getting past you or those journalists.”

Emily came outside, a plate in her hands. “I am here.”

“We’re going with Arthur, Em. Come on, out to the car.”

“Go to Pendragon Robotics,” Arthur instructed, quickly noting down the address for them. He could see the sense in keeping Emily with Merlin and Mordred, even though she did seem to actually be a clone. “Ask for Gwen Smith, she’ll look after you. I’ll call her in a minute and make sure she keeps you away from my father.”

Percival nodded. “Where will you go?”

“I’m going home. And if Merlin’s not there yet then I’ll walk on his regular route until I find him.”

“I hope you find him,” Emily told him, very sincerely. She was very kind-hearted. Arthur could see why Percival cared for her so deeply. 

Arthur forced a smile at her. “Me too.”

\---

Merlin knew that Arthur wouldn’t be very happy with him if he walked home by himself. Arthur preferred him to take a car, hide away. Merlin, after all, was quite famous after his TV appearance and there was no telling who might be watching. The media circus outside the apartment block had probably only died down temporarily. It was almost certain to be back again after Friday’s show, and then if new laws started being debated in Parliament then it would start again. There was still a great deal of high-profile work to do to get fair treatment for clones. There could be harassment from the public, from journalists, perhaps even from Du Bois themselves. But the restraints that Du Bois had put on Merlin no longer seemed to work. Merlin was free to come and go as he pleased, whatever Arthur might have wanted. It was harmless enough, going for a walk down a few city streets then cutting across the park. He could go into the building via the back entrance if there were journalists still hanging around. Further to walk, but not too much. And he wanted to walk. Just to have a little bit of fresh air, a chance to feel the sun on his face. He’d been across the road to Tintagel Park a few times with Arthur, especially when they’d had Aithusa staying at the flat.

Merlin put on his jacket, turned up the collar and pulled a beanie over his hair as he left Pendragon Robotics. It was a sunny day, so sunglasses didn’t look out of the ordinary. And then he headed downstairs, nodding a greeting to the security guard as he passed. It was a new guy, Merlin hadn’t seen him before. But that wasn’t unusual, Merlin had been only going in for a week or two. Arthur said they suggested getting a robot to do the work but that hadn’t gone down well with the unions. 

Outside, the street was busy. It was late afternoon and people were starting to head home from work or school. Arthur would be back soon from his meeting with Percival, and then they’d have the evening to themselves. 

It would be okay. The law was going to be discussed in parliament. Mithian was gathering support. Soon enough the law would be changed. Soon he wouldn’t have to walk around in disguise because his face was all over the news. Soon he would have all his rights back. But in the meantime he had to keep a low profile.

Outside, the sun was shining. It was a beautiful day, even at that time in the afternoon. Merlin walked quickly through the streets, keeping his head down, heading for the park. Nobody was taking any notice of him at all. Just another young man walking through the city.

There was something anonymous about a city, especially a huge one like Camelot. Nobody really looked at anyone else unless they drew attention to themselves. The streets were always so busy. And then you entered somewhere like Tintagel Park and suddenly the hustle and bustle would fall away.

Merlin could see the park up ahead, green and inviting. He quickened his pace, pausing only when he reached a crossing and had to wait for the signal to change. Then he was off again, across the road and through the open gates. 

He wondered whether Arthur had finished his meeting with Percival yet? It occurred to him that he still hadn’t turned his phone back on after his session with Gaius. Arthur might have been trying to get hold of him.

Belatedly Merlin realised that it might have been a good idea to check before leaving Pendragon Robotics, just in case Arthur had been heading over to pick him up or something. He rounded a corner and stopped, pulled out his phone and turned it back on. Arthur wouldn’t be too pleased at going out of his way for nothing. Especially as he’d not really wanted Merlin to go out alone. But it would only take a few minutes to get back to the company building if he needed to.

Why was it that phones took so long to switch back on when you were waiting for them, he wondered. Perhaps in future he would simply switch it to silent during the lessons. But it had been such a good session, he’d learned so much, and the phone was a distraction even if it was just the screen flashing. Not that he’d ever minded being distracted when he was at school or college by the thing. Learning about magic though, that was different.

A shadow fell across his path.

“Hello Jacob.” It was a voice he’d never wanted to hear again.

And then everything went black.

\---


	18. Chapter 18

Merlin wasn’t at home.

Arthur didn’t stay for more than a few moments, then headed back downstairs, out through the front entrance. He paused briefly to ask Elena to call him when Merlin came in, then went outside.

Of course, there had to be journalists waiting. They were like leeches, never letting go. And the bald nutter and his crew were still all sitting there, watching him. At least they hadn’t got up and starting chanting again. The journalists were pestering him though.

“Arthur! What do you think of the latest announcement from Du Bois?”

“Have they asked to recall Merlin?”

“Why isn’t he with you? Where is he? Has he already been recalled?”

“Just get out of the way!” Arthur snarled at them. 

Cameras flashed. The journalists, sensing blood, honed in on him. 

“Arthur, can you give us a statement?”

“Where’s Merlin?”

Arthur’s hand clenched into a fist. He was so close to turning round and punching one of them. Or all of them. But he didn’t have time to waste risking getting arrested for assault.

“Where are you going, Arthur?”

They wouldn’t go away if he didn’t feed them something. So he stopped, and forced a smile onto his face.

“I’m just going for a walk. Merlin is over at Pendragon Robotics, as you know he’s learning to hone his magic skills. I’m heading for the park, it’s not very exciting so please take your pictures now and then give me some space.”

“What do you think of the recall?”

“I think Du Bois are running scared. And I think it proves our case – if there was nothing wrong then they wouldn’t need to recall any of the clones. They know what they’re doing is morally wrong and they’re trying to hide the evidence. I just thank god for morally decent politicians like Mithian Nemeth who are willing to stand up for the innocent victims in this. Victims like Merlin and Mordred. Now please, I’ve cooperated and answered your questions so can I go? I’d like to stretch my legs before the sun goes down.”

Astonishingly it actually worked. But he supposed that he had told them everything they wanted to know, and they knew he wasn’t likely to go far on foot. He’d have to run the gauntlet again when he got back. But hopefully that would be with Merlin at his side. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

Merlin wasn’t in the park. 

Arthur jogged around it, then headed to Pendragon Robotics just in case Merlin had gone back. There was no sign of him, just a very anxious Gaius and Gwen. Elyan was out looking for Merlin too, but so far had found no sign.

Arthur was getting a very bad feeling. The walk home wasn’t a long one, and Merlin would definitely have gone through the park. Gwen was checking the security footage from the cameras at the front of the building but they were just showing Merlin walking in the direction of the park. There was no sign of anyone obviously following him.

“I’ll call the police,” Gwen decided. “He’s missing.”

Arthur shook his head. “You can’t. Normally you have to wait 24 hours. But Merlin doesn’t officially exist. They probably won’t do anything even this time tomorrow. Officially, he’s a clone, a thing that I bought.”

Gwen’s face was a study in disgust. But she nodded grimly, and called her brother again. “Elyan? Any sign?”

“I’ll go back to the flat,” Arthur told Gaius. Gwen’s phone call was as fruitless as he had expected. “Perhaps he went the long way home.”

He could tell from Gaius’ expression that the older scientist didn’t think that any more likely than Arthur did.

Again Arthur walked through the park. He went slowly, looking around for some sign to show where Merlin might have gone. But there was nothing. Elyan passed him at the park gates, about to start a circuit of the road around the outside of the park. There was little chance that Merlin would be there, but they had to try everything.

And then, just as Arthur was about to start a third trip through the park, his phone rang. It was the reception at the apartment block where he lived. Hoping desperately for good news, Arthur answered it.

“Hi Arthur!” Elena’s voice echoed out of the speaker. “Merlin just walked through reception and got in the lift. I did try to stop him but… well, perhaps he had earbuds in or something. Anyway, he’s home.”

Arthur felt as if a huge weight had lifted from him. He thanked Elena, then quickly called Gwen to tell her the news. Hurrying across the road, his phone pressed to his ear, Arthur was concentrating more on what he was saying to Gwen than anything else. The journalists rushed forward and took him by surprise.

“Why weren’t you with Merlin, Arthur?”

“He just walked in alone.”

“Have you had a row?” 

“Merlin wouldn’t speak to us.”

Arthur didn’t blame him. They were very annoying and intrusive. Still, it wasn’t like Merlin to be rude. He was more likely to have been a little nervous of them if anything.

“You probably intimidate him,” Arthur told them. “He’s from a small village in Wales. You’re all quite unnerving, you know?” He didn’t stop walking towards the entrance. The sooner he was inside and away from them the better.

The bald-headed nutter and his fellow crazies, who had been outside their building since Friday night, were still taking up space on the forecourt. But as Arthur approached, they all stood up as one.

Arthur groaned inwardly. Alator was holding his staff up in the air again. It was quite ornate now that Arthur could see it properly. Parts of it were possibly even gold. Being insane obviously paid well.

“Arthur Pendragon.”

_Oh god…_

“Hello!” Arthur tried waving cheerfully at them and quickened his pace. But suddenly Alator was there in front of him, blocking his way.

“He is transformed! He walked among us for eight days and on the ninth day returned to the earth from whence he sprang. And soon he will rise again. The golden age is almost upon us. The time of the true believers is at hand.”

“Oh good,” Arthur told him. “Can I get past please?”

“You must listen to me, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur just wanted to get inside and see Merlin. He didn’t really care what some fanatical nutter had to say. But sometimes they could be dangerous, and Alator suddenly seemed deadly serious so Arthur paused rather than push past.

“Go on then.”

“I am Alator, High Priest of the Old Religion. The chosen ones have been written of since the beginning of time.”

That seemed quite unlikely, because they didn’t have writing at the beginning of time. Arthur was fairly confident of this fact.

“The chosen ones?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“The once and future king was always prone to scorn the old religion. This is also written.”

“With all those pens they had at the start of time?” Arthur quipped. Behind him several of the journalists laughed. Really, though, he hadn’t got time for this. “Can I get past?”

“I am sorry,” Alator told him. “You will feel his loss keenly. But Emrys and the Once and Future King have a timeless bond. You will find him once more, time and again, as it always is.”

Arthur could see Elena heading towards the door with a security guard in tow. Probably on their way to rescue him from the oddball. Not for the first time, Arthur wished his father had been a little more imaginative when it came to naming his son.

“You’re one of those Arthurian legend fans, aren’t you?” Arthur sighed. 

“I am Alator, High Priest of the Old Religion,” Alator repeated. “We will meet again, Arthur Pendragon. On the final day, we will meet.”

And then Alator bowed deeply to him, turned and walked away. Not to sit on the forecourt again, but actually away. He walked past the journalists and down the street, his followers at his heels.

“Mad,” Arthur muttered to himself, and went into the foyer of the apartment block.

Elena greeted Arthur as soon as he was inside. “Sorry about that. They’ve not done anything except sing and pray up until now.”

“Lucky me,” Arthur told her with a wry smile. “Apparently I’m going to meet him again on the final day. Looking forward to it.”

“Oh dear!” Elena tried to hide a smile, but failed. It came out as a sort of awkward splutter.

“Thanks for calling me,” Arthur continued. “That was such a relief. I’m going to see what Merlin thought he was playing at, scaring me like that.” He started to head for the lift, but Elena followed.

“Merlin was a little bit distracted,” Elena told him. “He’s usually so friendly. Perhaps something happened and that’s why you couldn’t locate him.”

Merlin was, Arthur knew, one of Elena’s favourite people after he’d eventually managed to secure her the signed picture of Mithian that was now hanging in her office. It was quite odd that he wouldn’t have stopped to chat. And the journalists had said something similar. And Alator…

“Hopefully it was nothing,” Arthur assured her. “I’ll go up and check.”

He could feel the worry starting to burn in his chest again. It was nothing. It was absolutely nothing. Perhaps Merlin had been in a rush to get to the loo? It was going to be okay…

The lift seemed to take forever to arrive, and then even longer to take him up to his floor. As he unlocked the front door he felt a thrill of fear, then tried to play it down. Merlin would be fine.

“Merlin?” he called.

Merlin appeared immediately, standing at the end of the hallway, smiling at him. It was an odd sort of smile, not as open and friendly as usual.

“Arthur. You are home.”

“No thanks to you! Where have you been?” Arthur took a closer look at Merlin, who was unusually tidy. “What have you done to your hair?”

Merlin’s hair was slicked back, far neater than he normally wore it. It reminded Arthur of the day when Merlin had arrived, standing there in that very hallway amongst a pile of boxes. Of course, Arthur had thought Merlin was a clone back then.

“Is my hair unacceptable? I can change it. What sort of style do you desire?”

He sounded like Mordred had, before Mordred had started to overcome his programming. “Merlin, stop it, that’s not funny.”

“I can be humorous.”

“Merlin…”

“You refer to me as Merlin. I am Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc.”

“No,” Arthur breathed. “Oh no. No, no, no…”

“Programming options loaded are: home help standard package including full chef services; secretarial services; teaching from…”

“Stop! Stop talking!” Arthur couldn’t bear to hear it all through again. 

Merlin immediately fell silent.

He had never, ever been that obedient. Not even on the first day. 

“Oh Merlin, what did they do to you?” Arthur whispered. He took Merlin’s face in his hands, looking him over, trying to find some spark of recognition in his eyes. “Come back to me. Please…”

Merlin just gazed back at him, impassive. He did not speak. Because, of course, Arthur had told him not to.

“What happened to you?” Arthur asked again. When there was silence, he tried again. “Speak.”

“I returned to your home. I am here. I have started cleaning your home. Adult mode is unlocked on this model. Would you like sex? I have a variety of functions available on request.”

“No, I would not like sex,” Arthur told him. He thought of everything Merlin had told him about Du Bois, about what had happened to him there. And they’d taken Merlin again, hurt him again. Arthur didn’t think he could ever forgive himself for not being around to stop it. 

But Merlin had recovered before.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur breathed. “Fight this. Your magic brought you back before, it can do it again. Please, Merlin.”

The clone looked at him. “I am called Jacob. Do you wish to change my name? I can make an amendment to my files.”

“You’re not Jacob. You’re Merlin. Merlin. Gods, Merlin, what’s happened to you? Can’t you remember? You have to remember!” Arthur gave him a little shake. “Wake up!”

Jacob/Merlin stared back at him. “I am awake.”

Arthur took a step back, trying to think.

“You appear to be upset. Sex is most pleasurable and will make you happy. We should do that. I am programmed to please.”

Arthur looked away, at the wall, at a photo of himself with Morgana, years before, both of them smiling. He couldn’t look at Merlin. “Don’t mention sex again,” he ordered, hearing his voice break as he said it. “Carry on with your cleaning. That… that will please me.”

Merlin moved away. Arthur didn’t stop staring at the photo until he was certain that Merlin had gone and that he wouldn’t have to look at that vacant expression on Merlin’s face again. 

“Oh Sis,” he breathed. “What’s happened to him?”

Morgana’s photo simply smiled back at him, safe in the past. 

Arthur closed the door to the living room, where Merlin was dutifully cleaning. And then he took out his phone and started to call the first of many numbers.

\---

Gaius arrived first. 

The elderly magic user didn’t bother with any pleasantries when Arthur opened the door.

“Where is he?”

Arthur pointed to the living room, then went to answer the intercom as another of the people he’d called had turned up at reception. It was Leon. Hunith would no doubt be along shortly after. Arthur left the front door on the latch and went through to the living room where Gaius was trying to talk to Merlin.

“Anything?” Arthur asked.

Gaius shook his head, then turned away from Merlin, who was happily dusting Arthur’s bookshelves. “This is worse than Mordred. At least that poor boy could communicate with us a little bit.” 

“He doesn’t even respond to the name Merlin,” Arthur agreed. “He kept telling me he was Jacob. God, Gaius, how did this happen? He was only missing for half an hour at most! Right in the middle of rush hour. It would have taken them longer than that to get him back to Du Bois Inc.”

“You’re sure this is Merlin?” Gaius asked. “He could be an actual clone. They did have Merlin there before, plenty of opportunity to take DNA.”

Arthur shook his head. “I thought of that. But the old scar’s still there, on his arm. That wouldn’t be on a clone. They’re identical to the original except any blemishes aren’t there. No, that’s Merlin.”

Leon came rushing in. “Hi Arthur, Gaius,” he greeted them briefly, then went across to Merlin. “Merlin, how are you doing?”

“I am Jacob 183,” Merlin answered. “I have offered to amend my files to answer to Merlin if Arthur wishes but he has declined. Would you like refreshment?”

“No,” Leon murmured thoughtfully, then took hold of Merlin’s arm, pushing back the sleeve and looking at the scar. Arthur knew what he would be seeing. It was the same old scar that had helped identify him originally. It hadn’t been the deciding factor, it was his obvious consciousness and free thought that had done that. But it had helped.

“Do you know who I am?” Leon asked.

Merlin nodded. “Oh yes. You are Leon Knight, a friend of Arthur’s. And you are a well-known television presenter.”

“He seems to have been given specific information about Arthur’s acquaintances,” Gaius noted. “He recognised me too. It’s quite curious.”

“Like an extra module? Arthur 501?” Leon asked. He released Merlin’s arm. “This explains one thing. Du Bois called the studio just before you rang me, Arthur. They’ve agreed that Agravaine Du Bois will appear on this Friday’s edition of _The Monmouth Report_. Tristan was wondering why the change of heart. It makes sense now.”

“Well Merlin can’t go on like this,” Arthur pointed out. “It would prove Du Bois right.”

“If he doesn’t appear then Du Bois will claim we’re hiding him. So we lose either way. But perhaps by tomorrow night Merlin will be starting to come back to us? Mordred’s been getting slightly better control of himself the past few days. I mean, that’s brought up other problems, but it’s still hopeful, isn’t it? And Merlin’s magic is strong. He’ll fight this?”

“I hope so,” Gaius said, but he didn’t sound convinced. 

“Arthur?” Hunith’s voice sounded from the hallway. She had access as a resident, even though she was staying at Gwen’s so didn’t need to be let in.

“In here,” Arthur replied. 

There was a happy yap in response and a bundle of white fur came bounding into the living room ahead of Hunith, and launched himself at Arthur who had become a reliable source for walks and treats in the past week or so. 

“You’re still his favourite, I see,” Hunith commented. She stood for a moment looking at her son, who had gone back to his cleaning. “Oh. Merlin?”

Merlin carried on dusting the shelves.

“He says his name’s Jacob,” Arthur told her. “Be prepared that he may not know you.”

At the sound of the name Jacob, Merlin looked around. He saw Hunith and gave the insincere smile that Arthur was starting to hate. 

“Welcome Hunith Emrys. Guest of Arthur. Would you care for refreshment?”

“Merlin, you’re to stop this nonsense at once!” Hunith ordered. 

Arthur suddenly realised that perhaps his father wasn’t the scariest parent around. If Hunith had spoken to him like that he would definitely have done whatever she said. But Merlin didn’t even blink.

“I am Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc. I can bake a cake if that would be pleasing? I can prepare food tailored to your preferences and avoid any items that you may be allergic to.”

“Not if you’re making it,” Hunith told him with feeling. She turned away from him and Arthur could see the mix of fear and anger on her face.

“Jacob, please go into the kitchen, close the door and… and… cook dinner!” Arthur told him. He couldn’t think of anything else. The pleased look on Merlin’s face at being given a task was awful.

“Certainly, Arthur. What would you like?”

“Anything! Whatever we have ingredients for! Just go.”

Merlin walked into the kitchen and shut the door behind him. As he passed Aithusa, the little dog sniffed him and then gave a little whine, then ran over to Hunith, whimpering. She picked him up and then sat down on the sofa, stroking him.

“I know, sweetie, I know.”

And then she burst into tears.

Aithusa jumped down from her lap immediately. Arthur quickly sat down and put his arms around her, doing his best to comfort her. It was all he could do not to cry himself. He felt a sympathetic hand clasp his shoulder and wasn’t sure which of the two men it was. 

“I’ve lost him again,” Hunith managed between sobs. “Oh Arthur, whatever happened? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “I got home and he was like that.”

“He was himself when he left Pendragon Robotics,” Gaius settled himself down in one of the armchairs. “We’d been together most of the day. Things were going so well. I would have sworn he’d managed to erase every last trace of Du Bois’ influence. His magic is so strong, it’s amazing.”

“Could it be a reaction to that?” Leon wondered, sitting down in the other armchair. “Perhaps if they manage to completely shake off the programming then there’s something like a dead man’s… uh I mean like a… a trip switch and everything resets?” He paused, looking as if he were considering what he was saying. “That would mean he can come back from it,” he added, trying to look hopeful.

“It would also mean that the poor boy will be stuck on an endless loop of being himself and then not!” Gaius pointed out. “But are we completely sure this is Merlin? I know you’re using the old scar as a reason, but that was on the TV show. It could have been replicated. The person out there might well be an actual clone.”

“And if he is then where’s my boy?” Hunith asked. “Oh, I don’t know which to hope for. If he’s here then at least he’s safe. The things they did to him, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t need to be reminded of that. But then, he supposed, neither did Hunith. They both cared deeply for Merlin. He’d only been in Arthur’s life for a couple of weeks but already the loss was unbearable. He couldn’t imagine what Hunith was going through, losing her son a second time.

“We’ll find him,” Arthur promised her. “If that’s not him in there, we’ll find him.”

The trouble was, and all four of them knew it, that they didn’t have the faintest idea where to start looking. 

“But where?” Hunith asked. “He could be anywhere.”

“The clone processing plant owned by Du Bois is the most likely place,” Leon pointed out. “It’s massive, and has heavy security. I’ve tried doing a feature on them in the past. Couldn’t get any further than the front gate.”

Leon was notoriously good at getting into places with a camera, so the security had to be pretty good.

“They’ll be expecting you to turn up anyway, Arthur. Me too, probably. Even if we got in, we wouldn’t have a clue where to look for him. And you can bet they’ll have him well hidden. Even if…um…” Leon suddenly looked away, awkwardly.

“Even if he’s still alive, that’s what you were going to say,” Arthur finished for him. 

Leon looked down at his hands, then back across at Arthur. “Sorry.”

“And that still could be him in the kitchen,” Hunith pointed out. “We just don’t know.”

Arthur leaned back on the sofa, one hand rubbing at his eyes. He suddenly felt very tired.

“If only I’d been at work. If I hadn’t spent all afternoon with Percival,” he said. And then he remembered his instructions to Percival and realised something else.

Percival and Emily had not been at Pendragon Robotics when Arthur had gone there looking for Merlin. He should have been with Gwen but she was down in reception with Gaius, both of them waiting for news.

“Gaius,” he asked carefully, “I sent Percival Denton over to Pendragon Robotics this afternoon. He’s a body builder, hard to miss, and he would have turned up with Emily, Morgana’s clone. It would have been around about the time we were searching for Merlin.”

Gaius shook his head. “I didn’t see anyone. Gwen and I were in reception. Once we realised Merlin was missing, that was our main focus. Nobody came into the building except you. Perhaps he turned up after I left?”

“Could he have been working for Du Bois?” Leon wondered.

“I don’t think so,” Arthur told him. 

“But you can’t be certain.”

“No. So, either Percival isn’t what he seems and had let Du Bois know Merlin was probably walking home, or something’s happened to him as well.”

“He’s not a clone though,” Hunith pointed out. 

“But he had a unique clone with him, and those are the ones that are being recalled. My sister’s clone,” Arthur added. Hunith patted his arm sympathetically but didn’t comment further. She knew Morgana’s sad story.

“He was going to talk to us for Friday’s show about clone sentience,” Leon recalled. “That’s the same man, yes? Denton?”

“The same.” Arthur had his phone out and was already calling Percival’s number. “It’s going to answerphone.”

“Perhaps he’s driving?” Hunith suggested. Then she shook her head. “No. I suppose he’s not.”

Arthur tried Gwen. She was his last hope really. 

Aithusa had jumped up on his lap while he was making the call. Arthur stroked the little dog’s white fur absently while he spoke to Gwen. It was a small comfort. Perhaps, he thought, when it was all over, he’d get a dog of his own. Merlin would like that. If Merlin came back.

Percival had not turned up at Pendragon Robotics. 

Gwen was still there, working late on some project Uther had given her at the last minute. She’d seen no sign of Percival and had assumed he’d gone elsewhere due to Merlin’s disappearance. And, to be fair, she’d been more concerned with Merlin at the time. They’d become good friends very quickly.

“But at least he’s home and safe now, right?” she said.

Arthur broke the bad news. There was no way to make it any easier and he could hear how upset Gwen was from her reaction. He wasn’t sure exactly how much Merlin had told her, but suspected that there was little she didn’t know about what had happened to him in Du Bois’ care.

“But it might still be him?” she asked. “He recovered before. He told me it took a little while after… after the _treatment_ before he was himself again. So… we might get him back. Oh… poor Merlin. They’re monsters, Arthur. Monsters.”

He didn’t have any reassuring words for her. Hunith asked if she could speak to Gwen, and when she took the phone he heard her saying that she would probably be staying with Arthur again. It was a relief to think that he wouldn’t be there alone with the creature that wasn’t Merlin. 

“Thank you,” he said as soon as she’d ended the call.

“Oh Arthur,” she patted his hand. “I can’t leave you alone with this.”

“I don’t think either of you should stay, actually,” Gaius told them. “Nor should you eat whatever is being prepared for you. We don’t know whether it’s Merlin or not. And we don’t know what he’s been programmed to do. Now obviously Merlin would never harm you…”

“His cooking could,” Arthur admitted.

Gaius regarded him for a moment, then continued. “Obviously Merlin would never harm you under normal circumstances. But what if he’s been programmed to kill you during the night? We’ve already taken steps to prove his sentience, Du Bois can claim you tampered with him and it isn’t their fault. And it will do nothing to help Mithian’s attempts at changing the law. As it is, Du Bois really have nothing to lose because unless they stop her they’re finished. And Hunith and yourself are two of the main witnesses that can claim Merlin is sentient.”

“Well… what do we do?” Hunith asked. “We can’t return him. What if it _is_ Merlin?”

“We take him to Pendragon Robotics,” Arthur decided. “There’s good security, and we can keep him locked in one of the offices.”

Hunith gazed at him in horror.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like it any more than you do. But that keeps him safe, it stops them being able to take him back, and it stops him being able to do any harm. I’m assuming he’s programmed to obey me so if I order him to stay there then he’ll be okay. The door to the break room on our floor has a lock. And a TV, and a kitchen. There’s a foldaway bed in the corner in case anyone ever fell ill. I don’t think it’s ever been used. He’ll be okay.”

Hunith nodded, though she still didn’t look entirely convinced.

“I think we should bring Mordred over as well,” Leon decided. “Not because he’s a risk but because of the increased security. If Merlin’s been taken, and possibly this Percival chap as well, then we can’t be too careful. Mordred’s definitely going to be their next target.”

“Also we can study Merlin or whoever that is better there,” Gaius pointed out. 

Arthur nodded. “We’ll give him normal food. Perhaps take it in turns to stay with him. Percival said changing her diet was how Emily started to become more alert.”

“It’s a pity we can’t find them and ask more,” Gaius said. 

It really was. 

Arthur got to his feet. Worrying about it wasn’t going to help anyone. There were things to do.

“Come on then,” he said. “Time to move Merlin, or Jacob, or whoever he is, somewhere more secure.”

He supposed Jacob wouldn’t be very happy at not being able to finish cooking dinner.

\---

Friday morning started out grey and rainy. 

Arthur had stayed over at Pendragon HQ along with Merlin/Jacob, not wanting to leave him alone. While there was the slightest chance that it was Merlin in there, Arthur would do everything he could to protect him. 

Sleeping on a foldaway bed in his office didn’t make for the most comfortable of nights. Leon and Gwaine had brought Mordred over, along with camp beds and sleeping bags. The third floor, normally Arthur and Elyan’s highly scientific research area, was temporarily transformed into a makeshift campsite.

Perhaps it would have been less miserable if Gwaine hadn’t insisted they all camped out in a ring of beds in the centre of the lab. 

Merlin stared out at them all mournfully through the glass panel in the door of the break room. Arthur tried not to look at him standing there. It was like seeing an abandoned puppy at a dogs home.

“Don’t know what he’s staring at,” Gwaine grumbled. “He’s got the best room! Hey, what’s this? Arthur, you dark horse, are you creating sex toys in here?”

And that was the point when Arthur had to lock away the robot arm that he and Elyan had been working on. 

Mordred went to sleep quite quickly. He had grown comfortable in Gwaine and Leon’s company, and was less jittery than he had been at the weekend despite an initial panic on seeing Merlin’s condition. He was also managing to speak a few words, although it was still obviously a huge effort. The fact that they were all trying to protect him from Du Bois was clearly appreciated. One day, not far off, perhaps, they would get to hear his full story. 

Gwaine snored. It wasn’t a surprise. When he wasn’t awake and talking he was snoring. Really the man was never quiet. Between that and the shadowy figure of Merlin watching them silently, Arthur eventually had enough. He’d picked up the camp bed and shut himself in his office.

In the morning he’d woken to find Elyan standing over him, holding out a mug of coffee.

“I’m sure there’s a good explanation as to why Leon Knight, Mordred and some other guy are asleep in our lab. I come offering coffee in exchange.”

Arthur rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. If Leon was still intending to have him appear as a guest on the TV show that evening then the make-up people were going to have their work cut out, he thought. 

“Thanks Elyan,” Arthur sat up carefully on the edge of the camp bed and took the coffee gratefully. “Didn’t Gwen warn you?”

“About Merlin, yes. I met _Jacob_ just now when I was making coffee. God, he’s creepy. Followed me all around the kitchen offering to help. He’s just standing in the doorway now because you told him he wasn’t to leave. It’s spotless in there. I don’t think it was that clean when it was new!”

“He likes to clean,” Arthur took a sip of the coffee and waited for the caffeine to kick in. He really needed it that morning.

“I noticed. Maybe he’d like to come round to my flat later!”

Arthur shook his head even though he knew Elyan was joking. “He’s staying here until we know a little more about what’s going on. And Mordred’s staying here too, we’re making use of the security. Du Bois might try to snatch him too.”

Elyan glanced towards the break room. “Is that actually Merlin?”

“We don’t know,” Arthur admitted sadly. “And I’ve lost contact with Percival, the man who had Morgana’s clone, as well. He was supposed to come over here yesterday but never turned up.” He picked up his phone from the desk where he’d left it. “I’ll try again. It was just going to answerphone yesterday.”

“You think he had something to do with what happened to Merlin?” Elyan asked. He’d sat down behind Arthur’s desk, sipping his coffee.

“I hope not. And no, I don’t think so. I’m more worried that something’s happened to them.” Percival’s phone was ringing. Arthur waited for it to click over to answerphone. He’d already left two messages the previous evening and didn’t really want to leave a third.

“Hello?”

It was a woman’s voice that answered. It didn’t sound like Emily.

“Um… hi, yes, I was hoping to speak to Percival Denton?”

“Who is this?” the woman asked.

“Arthur Pendragon.” Belatedly Arthur wondered whether he should have said that. It could be anyone on the other end of the phone. “Who’s this?”

“I’m his sister, I’m temporarily looking after the gym. Are you one of his customers? Because it’s going to be closed for a few days I’m afraid.”

“No, I’m a friend, he was supposed to meet me yesterday evening but he didn’t turn up. Is everything okay?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Percival’s sister replied. “No, Arthur. Percy’s been attacked. He’s in hospital. Someone found him unconscious in a carpark and called an ambulance. He’s woken up but he’s really groggy so they’ve kept him in overnight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Arthur really was. “What about Emily? Is she okay?”

“The clone?”

“Yes.”

There was another pause. “Nobody knows where she is. He keeps asking for her. There’s no other obvious motive for the attack so the police think it was to steal the expensive clone.”

“I suppose so,” Arthur replied, not really knowing what else to say. “Do the doctors think he’ll be okay? I can’t imagine anyone managing to overpower Percival.”

“He was hit from behind. Cowards. But yes, the doctors expect him to make a good recovery. I’ll tell him you called. The police will want to speak to you, if he was coming to meet you.”

“That’s okay. You’ve got my number on that phone, just give them that. Tell Percival I hope he gets better soon, and that if I can do anything to help find Emily I will.”

As the call ended, Arthur couldn’t help thinking that if he’d never contacted Percival then in all probability both Percival and Emily would be safely at home, oblivious. Although Emily was a unique clone. Most likely she would have been recalled anyway. And Percival would have done everything he could to protect her.

“Bad news?” Elyan asked. 

Leon appeared in the doorway still looking half-asleep, his hair sticking out in various directions.

“Morgana’s clone’s been taken. Percival’s been attacked, he’s in hospital,” Arthur told them.

“Is he badly hurt?” Leon asked. 

“Yes, but it sounds as if he’ll recover, thankfully.”

“Jesus.” Leon ran a weary hand across his face, succeeding in ruffling his hair still further. “I need coffee, then I’m calling Mith. This is a mess.” He turned away, heading for the office kitchen.

“A dangerous mess by the sounds of it,” Elyan commented, looking at Arthur. “You’re a scientist, Arthur, not a crusader. Perhaps you should take a step back? Leon there, he makes a career out of this sort of thing. You’ve made a career out of circuits and programming. You could find yourself out of your depth with this.”

Arthur shook his head. “I’m already out of my depth, Elyan. Du Bois have taken Merlin, whether it’s all of him or his mind – which might as well be all of him because that thing in the rest room isn’t the man I love. I’m not stopping until I’ve got him back.”

Elyan’s expression softened at that. “Love, eh? I suppose that makes a difference. I think I’d go to hell and back for someone I loved.”

Arthur hadn’t even thought about what he was saying. But yes, love, that’s what it was, he realised. 

He just wished Merlin was there so that he could tell him.

\---


	19. Chapter 19

That night’s edition of _The Monmouth Report_ was going to be a disaster.

It was always likely to be, from the moment Merlin changed and Agravaine Du Bois agreed to go on, but that didn’t make it any easier for everyone concerned. Everyone except Agravaine, at least.

The show, originally, was supposed to have Mithian, Arthur, Merlin, Gaius and Uther on it, with a film from Leon showing Mordred’s development. That had all changed in the past 24 hours. 

“You’re in a debate with Agravaine Du Bois,” Tristan told Arthur cheerfully as soon as Arthur arrived at the studio, Leon at his side and Merlin walking dutifully beside them.

“What?” Arthur exclaimed.

Leon looked equally stunned. Apparently it was also news to him. “No, Arthur was going to be on with Mithian and they were going to talk about the bill.”

“Du Bois wouldn’t come on unless he had a debate with the Pendragons and Merlin,” Tristan explained, and Arthur groaned at the last bit. “What? I asked Uther and he said it would be fine. So I didn’t think it would be a problem. It’s not a problem, is it Arthur? It’s all set up now. We’ve been advertising it since last night.”

“We haven’t really had any time to watch TV,” Arthur said. 

Leon frowned. “Something’s happened to Merlin,” he told Tristan. “That’s the only reason Du Bois is coming on. We can’t put Merlin on.”

“But he’s right here,” Tristan protested. “Merlin, you’re up for another edition of the show, right?”

Merlin/Jacob looked at him with the overly pleasant expression that Arthur was starting to learn to hate.

“I am not Merlin. I am Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc. I can rewrite my files if Arthur wishes me to change my name. Arthur has not expressed a wish for me to do so.”

“Bloody hell!” Tristan swore. “What? Is this a joke? Not funny, Merlin.”

“I am Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc. If you require humour I am able to oblige. Would you like to hear a joke? Have you ever wondered why it is that bees hum? It is because they do not know the words.”

Tristan just stared at him. 

“I have other jokes if that was not amusing.”

“Please stop talking, Jacob,” Arthur instructed. He absolutely hated ordering Merlin around, but the alternative was so distressing that he had no choice. 

“What’s happened?” Tristan asked. 

Leon gave him a shortened version of the events of the past 24 hours. “And that’s why Du Bois wants to do a debate today,” he finished. “You can’t put Merlin on TV like this.”

“Damn.” Tristan stared at Merlin as if he’d never seen him properly before. “What about Mordred? Could we put him on? I know you’ve got a film but is he ready to sit in?”

“No.” Leon was quite firm about that. “He’s not here. And if Du Bois asks, say he’s run off.”

“Has he?”

“No. But they’ve already come for him once. Gwaine’s looking after him in a secure location.”

“So I’m doing a show about clones with no actual clones coming on?” Tristan checked. “Wonderful.”

“Neither Merlin nor Mordred are clones,” Arthur reminded him. Although he wasn’t really sure about Jacob. 

“What about that other one you were telling me about last week?” Tristan asked. “The clone of Arthur’s sister. Can we get her?”

It really wasn’t Tristan’s day. And nor was it Arthur’s sometime later, when his father turned up in the studio all fired up for battle.

“Arthur!” he greeted his son cheerfully, slapping him on the back. “This is going to be great! Gwen was being _ridiculous_ earlier, going on about Merlin. Something about being an actual clone. Utter nonsense! Agravaine isn’t going to know what hit him!” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Really, I don’t know why put up with that girl sometimes!”

“Because she’s brilliant,” Arthur told him. “And you should have listened to her because what she told you was true. You can speak again now, Jacob,” he added.

Merlin/Jacob had been maintaining his silence as instructed. He smiled happily at Uther.

“Uther Pendragon, father of Arthur. I am pleased to meet you. I am Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc.”

Uther narrowed his eyes, the smile fading from his face. “Is this a joke?”

Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur pre-empted him. 

“Don’t tell any jokes, Jacob,” he instructed, then turned to his father. “No, it isn’t a joke. I wish you’d listened to what Gwen was telling you. Something’s happened. We don’t know whether this is Merlin or a clone, and if he’s a clone then where’s Merlin?”

“We can’t go on live TV with… with _that!_ ” Uther gestured towards Jacob disgustedly.

“No. But it’s too late to back out without looking as if he’s right. So we have to try to bluff it out. We’ll say Merlin’s unwell, a bad reaction to getting over the programming. Leon’s trying to put together enough footage from the past week that he can pretend he has an interview with Merlin. That will make it harder for Agravaine to claim that it was all a fake.”

“Which without a doubt is what he’ll try to do. What about that politician girl? Does she know? Is she still coming on this show?”

Mithian’s bill had passed its first reading that afternoon. She’d made an impassioned speech, and people had listened. There was still a long way to go before the law was changed, but it had been an important first step. Mithian had called Arthur when she’d heard about Merlin, and was full of concern for Merlin and sympathy for Arthur. But without Merlin or Emily, the only person left as evidence was Mordred with his tapping and his tiny vocabulary.

“She knows,” Arthur said. “She’s still coming on.”

Uther did not look happy. He frowned at Jacob, who smiled pleasantly back at him.

“Oh my god,” Uther muttered, before walking away.

\---

There was a distinct air of apprehension in the studio as the show began.

The first part was entirely Mithian, buoyed up with her success earlier and keen to discuss the evidence for clone sentience. She’d got an anthropologist, Doctor Elaine Astolat, with her. The doctor explained exactly why it was impossible for the clones not to have human feelings and sentience. They went through the drugs that were in the food that the clones were supposed to eat, and explained about cases that gained some sort of sentience after ceasing consumption of that food. Really, it would have been an ideal moment to introduce Emily.

But who knew where Emily was? 

The second part was Leon’s film with Merlin. Merlin with Gaius, learning to use his magic. With Gwaine, laughing at some joke. With Arthur, walking Aithusa through the park. Some, like that last piece, was from the week before. Arthur found it all hard to watch, sitting in the green room, waiting to go on himself later. The memories made him feel Merlin’s loss much more keenly. And it was worse with Jacob sitting there beside him, watching impassively. 

Worse again, Uther was sitting across the room, glaring at Jacob as if his existence was a personal affront. Which, to Uther, it probably was.

But worst of all was when Agravaine walked in, a simpering smirk on his face.

“Uther, Arthur, what a pleasant surprise. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t be coming along this evening!” He went over to the hospitality buffet and helped himself to a glass of wine and some nibbles. “And Merlin too! Excellent. I trust you’re fully satisfied with our product, Arthur? So kind of you to endorse us like you have. Sales will rocket.”

“What have you done with him?” Arthur growled. He couldn’t help himself. He knew he should be keeping quiet, playing it calm. But Agravaine _knew_. He had the answers Arthur craved. 

“With whom, dear nephew?” Agravaine asked, all confusion and curiosity. “Of whom do you speak?”

“Arthur!” Uther warned.

Arthur bit his lip. Perhaps they could have it out after the show. Perhaps he could follow Agravaine, tail him, see if he led them back to Merlin? But then, Merlin might be sitting there with them in the green room? 

“Just tell me, is Jacob here a clone?” Arthur said finally.

“Of course he’s a clone,” Agravaine looked around at them all. “That’s what we sell at Du Bois. Clones. Just as you sell robots, or I suppose they’re androids really. Tell me, Uther, have you ever considered incorporating that into the name of your company? Pendragon Robot and Android Technologies? Vivien suggested it last weekend and I thought I’d pass it on. It would be quite fitting.”

Arthur could see a vein twitching in Uther’s forehead.

“We’re happy with the name we’ve got, thank you Uncle,” Arthur put in quickly.

“Ah well, a change is as good as a rest, eh?” Agravaine beamed, settling down into one of the vacant chairs. “Oh dear me, what on earth are they doing now? I thought this was a serious show.”

Gwaine was on the screen doing an interview with Alator outside Arthur’s apartment block. It was quite bizarre and mostly consisted of Gwaine flirting with the camera (which really did seem to like him) or Gwaine asking Alator frankly ridiculous questions.

“So, you think my mate Merlin’s the second coming?”

“Emrys is he who was known at the dawn of time. He was born of magic, sprung from the earth.”

Arthur could imagine the kind of comment Hunith would be making on hearing that. 

“Pretty sure he sprang from Mr and Mrs Emrys!” Gwaine quipped, grinning at the camera and waggling his eyebrows.

Arthur could remember Leon saying something about them filming that earlier in the week. It was supposed to have been a test piece to see how Gwaine came across, not a serious interview intended for broadcast. They had to be really scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as content went. He watched as Gwaine got down on the ground, sitting cross-legged beside Alator and pretending to meditate alongside him.

“Good grief!” Arthur heard his father mutter.

And then it went to the advert break again. That signalled the moment they were called out to the set, ready for the next part. Uther led the way, striding out confidently despite everything. Arthur tried to emulate him, though he doubted that they were going to be able to bluff their way through things. Geoffrey looked concerned. Mithian gave Arthur a smile, but it was apprehensive. Tristan, standing behind one of the cameras, wore a grim expression. Agravaine, naturally, wore a pleased smile as if he were delighted to be there. And mostly likely he was.

At least Arthur had left Jacob in the green room, with strict instructions to remain there. So far Jacob had been obedient. Arthur just hoped that it would last.

Geoffrey did his best. His show, after all, had championed their cause and back-tracking on that wouldn’t look good. His career had been forged on uncovering unpleasant truths. But with the unpleasant truth currently looking as if all their claims and accusations the previous week were incorrect, Geoffrey would know he was on shaky ground.

They went quickly through the introductions and pleasantries, and then got down to business.

“Now Agravaine,” Geoffrey began, “during last week’s show we had Merlin sitting where you are today. Merlin and his family and friends provided shocking proof that he was not the clone that you’d sold him as but in fact the person from whom the clone was created. Then we heard from Mordred, another of your supposed clones who had experienced the same treatment. This has raised all kinds of moral questions not just about what was done with Merlin and Mordred but the very nature of cloning itself. What do you have to say about this?”

Agravaine’s smile broadened. He looked to the camera when he answered, rather than to Geoffrey. Smooth. Professional.

“Well Geoffrey,” he chuckled. “Over in Du Bois we were quite frankly flabbergasted at the allegations that young Arthur here was coming out with. We thought he’d been on the sauce again!”

Arthur took a steadying breath. He really wanted to lay into Agravaine both verbally and physically. But Isolde was talking in his ear, trying to keep him calm.

“First of all, I’d like to say for the record that this business of reanimating dead bodies is really quite ludicrous. I think young Arthur may have been watching too many episodes of The Walking Dead or something!” Again Agravaine allowed himself a little chuckle. “Obviously the clone Arthur purchased was extremely attractive to a young homosexual like himself and he very much wanted the clone to be a real person.”

“God, he’s offensive,” Isolde commented. “Don’t rise to it, Arthur.”

“Both clones, as I explained on the show hosted by the very lovely Vivien, have been tampered with and trained by their owners to respond to cues. Obviously the Pendragons are extremely skilled with robotics and what they got wrong the first time with Byron, or Mordred as they like to call him, they improved on with Jacob. Or, as they say, Merlin.”

“Untrue,” Uther said icily. “Also, the Black boy was purchased many days after Merlin so your theory doesn’t hold water.”

“Oh but it does, my dear Uther,” Agravaine beamed. “And I can prove it to you.” He looked towards the green room door. “Jacob!” he called.

Arthur felt his blood run cold as the door opened.

“Oh no,” Mithian gasped, seeing Jacob appear in the doorway. She’d met him briefly before the show started and agreed he shouldn’t go on.

Some of the crew tried to move him back into the green room, but Jacob wasn’t going to budge. Agravaine beckoned him forward and Jacob headed towards him, brushing off anyone who tried to stop him.

“We can’t hide the fact he’s here now,” Isolde told Arthur. “He’s going to have to come on the show. This is going to be a disaster.”

“Come here, Jacob,” Agravaine instructed. As Jacob walked towards him, Agravaine addressed the camera directly. “Now as you may have heard, we recalled all of the unique clone line. This was in order to correct the design fault that the Pendragons have exploited. Jacob here, whom you saw last week under the name of Merlin, has been restored to his factory settings.”

“Monstrous,” Arthur heard Mithian say. “These are people!”

“These are clones, my dear,” Agravaine told her patronisingly. “Do keep up. Women and science eh Uther?” he winked at his nemesis. 

Uther looked so angry that Arthur thought his father might burst a blood vessel. “My wife… _your sister_ was a scientist and a damned good one.”

“Yes, of course,” Agravaine waved his protests aside.

Arthur had never liked his uncle very much, but until that point he hadn’t realised that the man had so little regard for Arthur’s mother. He’d always assumed that Agravaine’s dislike for himself and his father was because he blamed them for her death. Perhaps it was because he’d never actually liked his sister, and therefore loathed those who loved her.

“You disrespectful little worm,” Uther growled. 

“Merlin, welcome back onto the show!” Geoffrey said very loudly and very quickly, probably afraid that his guests were going to start an all-out fight. 

Jacob/Merlin stood beside Agravaine’s chair. Agravaine seemed quite happy to have him stay like that, so Arthur patted the space on the sofa beside him. “Sit here.”

Jacob looked to Agravaine for approval. The man shook his head so Jacob stayed where he was. It looked very awkward, which was no doubt the intention. It also showed that he was no longer answerable to Arthur.

“As owner of Du Bois Inc.,” Agravaine explained, “I have overriding control of all clones, including this one. You’ll notice that it didn’t respond to you when you referred to it as Merlin?”

“I am Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc. How may I be of service?”

“You can shut up,” Uther muttered, but the microphone picked it up. Arthur saw Geoffrey wince.

“Jacob, who is Merlin Emrys?” Agravaine asked, smiling at the camera yet again. 

“Merlin Emrys was the DNA donor for this clone. Born in Ealdor, Wales. Deceased.”

“Do you believe that you are Merlin Emrys, Jacob?”

“I am Jacob 183 of Du Bois Inc.” There wasn’t even the slightest hesitation in the reply. 

“You see, Arthur, it was just a bug in the programming,” Agravaine smiled. It was probably intended to be a pleasant smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This clone must have been logged into the system during a glitch, and somehow stored the news story about the poor boy’s death. Tragic, of course, and so much more so for his poor mother. This will be like losing her son all over again. We’ll be compensating her, obviously.”

“I don’t think Hunith will care for compensation,” Arthur said dully. He didn’t think he would either. That thing in front of him, it wasn’t Merlin. It looked at him with Merlin’s face, but those weren’t his eyes. The bright spark of life that had made him Merlin was gone. The pain of his loss tore at Arthur, but he couldn’t let Agravaine see that. 

“It’s sad,” Agravaine continued. “But of course the company will build on this.”

“Build on it?” Uther asked suspiciously. “How?”

“Well,” and Agravaine did look smug then. “It’s a credit to our craft that our clones are so realistic. Even the boy’s own mother was taken in. There’s going to be an entire new range for the bereaved, building on the bereaved range that we already do. This time we’ll have them named after the person they replace. Tastefully done, of course, but we’ll be branching out. You can thank your son for that.”

Uther glared at Arthur, but where once that would have intimidated him, Arthur felt nothing. 

“Leave Hunith out of this,” he urged. “She’s suffered enough.”

Agravaine ignored him. “And Arthur was fooled too, of course. So lifelike that the son of our greatest rival was taken in.”

Arthur could actually hear his father’s teeth grinding. There would be a lengthy ‘talk’ once the show was over and Agravaine had gone.

“Jacob, or _Merlin_ as you like to call him, was especially popular after last week’s _Monmouth Report_. We had a large number of enquiries. Luckily for us you’ve invalidated your warranty by all this slanderous publicity so we can use the DNA to create a whole line of them. I almost feel as if we should give you a cut!” Agravaine laughed at his own joke. “But of course we won’t be doing that. Bad for business," he told the camera, smiling again. And then he even had the nerve to do a little sales pitch; “And do check our website for the new _Merlin_ range in a few weeks. They’re sure to be very popular so put your orders in soon.”

“What about the fact that Hunith Emrys didn’t give you permission to use her son’s DNA?” Uther growled. “That’s a crime in itself!”

“Indeed it would be,” Agravaine agreed, “if that were the case. But in fact we have signed certification from Mrs Emrys agreeing to it. I have the papers right here, along with the ones from Mr and Mrs Black consenting to the use of their son’s DNA.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit and brought out some crisply folded sheets of paper. “Here we are. Look, Geoffrey, all above board.” He handed over the certificates. “All quite genuine, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

Arthur couldn’t see the pages properly but he doubted very much that it was Hunith’s signature. That didn’t matter though as everyone watching would think it was hers and the damage would be done.

“Well, I have no idea what Mrs Emrys’ signature looks like,” Mithian put in, leaning over and taking the pages from Geoffrey. “These could have been signed by anyone. I believe this is what’s referred to in showbusiness as a prop, Mr Du Bois.”

“Oh please, call me Agravaine,” Agravaine urged. “I realise this must be upsetting for a lovely young lady such as yourself, having been taken in by the Pendragons over this. But I’m sure your career and reputation will recover. Such a talented politician. A rare thing in a woman!” Again, he laughed.

Mithian narrowed her eyes at him, refusing to rise to the obvious bait. Arthur supposed that she lived her whole life having to deal with patronising men who were in fact intimidated by her.

“And… that’s all we’ve got time for!” Geoffrey put in quickly. “Thank you very much to all my guests this evening, to Mithian Nemeth and Doctor Elaine Astolat, Uther and Arthur Pendragon, and Agravaine Du Bois. And... erm… Jacob. Yes. Join us next week when we’ll be back with the top stories of the day.”

“Aren’t there supposed to be four parts? And isn’t that tall chap supposed to come in at the end of the show?” Agravaine asked innocently as soon as they went to credits. “The red-haired chappie? He was in the green room.”

“Oh my god what a mess!” Geoffrey exclaimed, getting to his feet. 

“I thought it went rather well,” Agravaine said smugly.

“Oh shut up, you miserable, sexist, homophobic little worm!” Mithian snapped. “I don’t know what you’ve done to Merlin, but I’m not letting this go. Clones are _people_! Geoffrey, you didn’t even let us argue with him! What about the final section of the show? Aren’t we coming back? I have things I want to say!”

“I pulled the plug on the show,” Tristan explained. “Damage limitation. We’ve put in a story from Leon about penguins for the final twelve minute slot after the break. It was supposed to be on in a couple of weeks.”

“Censorship, hmm…” Agravaine pursed his lips together. “We didn’t have that on _Vivien_.”

“Just go,” Tristan told him. 

Agravaine got up, smoothing down his suit. “Well, I must say it’s been a pleasure. You’re not as pleasant to look at as Vivien is, Geoffrey, but I certainly enjoyed this evening. Uther, Arthur, always a joy. Do have fun with your clone. And if you want another one we should have a whole range of Merlins in a few weeks! They’ll be selling like hot cakes! You know, Arthur, perhaps I _should_ give you a cut after all!”

And then he walked away, laughing.

“A cut!” Uther exclaimed as soon as Agravaine had left. “Arthur, you’ve really excelled yourself this time.”

“A cut…” Arthur breathed. “That’s it!”

“What on earth are you talking about? Perhaps you should go and work for your uncle as you seem to be providing him with so much profit. You realise you’ve probably finished Pendragon Robotics? The bad publicity we’re going to get from this is going to turn customers away in droves.”

Arthur wasn’t listening. There had been a cut on Merlin’s hand from the accident in Leon’s flat. It had been small enough that it wouldn’t have been noticed, and it hadn’t been publicised on TV like the one on Merlin’s arm so Du Bois wouldn’t have looked for it. And although it was small, it was still deep enough that it couldn’t have healed completely yet. If the thing he’d found in his apartment wasn’t Merlin then it wouldn’t have that mark. The old scar was there because Agravaine would know about that one. That would probably have been faked somehow. 

The clone, because that was what he was, not Merlin at all, just stood there, staring straight ahead. Jacob was more robotic even than his own robots were. Arthur took hold of his right arm and examined the hand. The old scar was there on the arm, he could see the end of it at the edge of the clone’s sleeve. But of the cut on his hand from the broken vase on Sunday night there was not the slightest trace. The skin was smooth and perfect. The cut had been quite deep and although it would have been much fainter so many days later it wouldn’t have completely healed.

Jacob wasn’t Merlin. 

Arthur gave a brief, almost hysterical sob of relief. Merlin could still be alive somewhere. There was still a chance.

“Well?” his father snapped. He’d obviously been saying something more while Arthur had turned his attention to more useful matters.

“I don’t know, Father. I stopped listening.”

Uther actually gave a little gasp of indignation at that, but Arthur ignored it. 

“I’m tired of being made to feel that I will never, ever be a good enough son for you. It really doesn’t matter any more. Without Merlin, nothing matters.”

“Arthur, I realise you’re disappointed…”

“I’m not _disappointed_! Have you any idea what Merlin meant to me? I _loved_ him! I still love him! He’s everything to me. This isn’t some silly infatuation that’s going to go away. He was scared and brave and tried so hard to make a difference and now Du Bois have got hold of him again and I don’t know what’s happening to him. They could kill him. They probably _will_ kill him if they haven’t already. That thing there isn’t Merlin.”

“Arthur…” Uther shook his head. “That scar…”

Arthur held up a hand for silence. Shockingly, his father actually obeyed. Arthur spoke to the clone. “Go and sit in the green room. Close the door and wait there for me.”

Obediently the clone did as he was bid, passing Leon who was just leaving the green room.

“Is there somewhere soundproofed that we could go?” Arthur asked Tristan. “I don’t know if he can still hear us from in there. He’s clearly under Du Bois’ control and quite possibly transmitting back to them.”

“You’re in a TV studio, Arthur. We do have one or two soundproofed rooms,” Tristan told him drily. “Go through to 1.3 over there” – he pointed – “I have to finish up here. Technically we’re still on air. Just hope we are next week. The number of complaints is sky high already.”

“Hardly surprising,” Uther grumbled. 

“It’ll be okay, we’ve got through worse,” Leon assured them.

“Really?” Arthur asked.

“No, but it’ll be okay. The law on clones still needs to change. And we’ll always be the show that first highlighted that. Mithian here will always be the first MP to stand up for them. We might all be heading for a rough patch, but we’ll get through it. Come on, over to 1.3, then you can tell us whatever it is.”

Once he had Uther, Leon, Geoffrey and Mithian safely in the soundproofed room with the door closed, Arthur continued.

“That scar on Jacob’s arm is the only one they knew about! There’s another, a newer one, and it’s not there. _Merlin_ is missing. They’ve sent that thing in his place. Do you remember last Sunday night? Mordred panicked and tried to run off, then broke that vase? Merlin picked the pieces up and cut himself. It was quite deep, he was lucky he didn’t need stitches.”

“I remember,” Leon nodded. “He dripped blood on my hall carpet. Took a while to get it out.”

“It wouldn’t be gone without any trace at all, not this quickly. Merlin was grumbling about it on Thursday morning, saying it was a bit sore when he held a pen. I’d forgotten about it. It seemed so minor.”

“So that’s not Merlin,” Leon stated. “Jacob really is a clone.”

“It probably transmits back to Du Bois everything we say,” Uther added. “We should send it back.”

Mithian frowned at him. “So that they can kill him? That’s what happens, you know? To defective clones. They’re expendable. He’s a living creature, Uther. Du Bois will be brought to task for what they’ve done. This is just a setback. And if they’re holding Merlin against his will then that’s something else they’ll have to answer for.” She turned to look at Arthur and Leon. “So, what are you going to do about finding Merlin?”

“We need to get inside Du Bois’ processing plant,” Leon stated. “I’ll get my research team onto finding a way inside. That’s got to be where they’re holding him. We’ll need to leave Mordred at Pendragon Robotics though. I think that’s the safest place for him, better than in my flat if Du Bois try to snatch him back. And just in case he’s somehow accidently transmitting information back then we don’t discuss this around him.”

“You don’t trust him,” Uther stated.

“I don’t trust what might have been done to him,” Leon corrected. “There’s a difference. Arthur, you should keep Jacob there too.”

Arthur hadn’t considered keeping him anywhere else. Having him at home, taking Merlin’s place, was unbearable. Although now that he could think of the clone as Jacob, now that he knew that Merlin was still out there somewhere… That made Jacob easier to cope with. But he had to get Merlin back.

“I’ll have my team look for any loopholes in the law that would allow the police to search the place,” Mithian offered. “There must be something. It’s kidnapping.”

“He’s legally dead,” Arthur sighed. “The quickest way to hide that particular evidence is to provide a body. Having the police charge in there wouldn’t be a good idea. Even if they would because again, the whole being officially dead thing makes this a really grey area.”

“We’ll find a way in,” Leon promised. “I’ll make a start right now.”

“Me too,” Mithian said. “Leon, I’ll call you in the morning, we can pool resources.”

“Good idea,” Leon followed her to the door, “I’ll walk you to your car. Arthur, if you’re going back can you tell Gwaine I’ll be along later. Few things to do here first.”

Arthur nodded and went to leave too, but his father called him back. 

“Arthur, wait a moment please. About earlier. Can you close the door.”

Arthur had known this would be coming. He’d had enough of it all, really he had. His father had been such an overbearing figure all his life. And suddenly it didn’t matter what he thought. Nothing mattered except getting Merlin back. And perhaps others too. Emily was still missing, there would probably be more.

“Are you going to tell me how rude I was, or how stupid? I know I’m a failure in your eyes in every possible way. You’ve made that very clear. But I’m not backing down on this. Merlin is missing and I won’t stop until I’ve found him. I know you hate the fact that I’m gay…”

“Arthur…”

“I know it! But that’s what I am, take it or leave it. And Merlin is everything to me. _Everything_. I know you don’t approve of him but I’m going to do whatever it takes to get him back. You can’t stop me. So don’t try.”

Uther sat down on the nearest chair with a heavy sigh. “Oh, Arthur. You are so wrong.”

“Yes, I supposed I would be. I normally am.”

“No. Please, sit down, hear me out.”

Arthur didn’t want to. He wanted to go straight over to Du Bois Inc. and scout around outside and really could do without wasting time on yet another lecture from his father. But Uther looked suddenly so very old and sad. Arthur hadn’t seen him like that since Morgana had died. So, against his better instincts and with the intention to leave at the slightest provocation, Arthur sat down.

“Go on then. But if you start on me again I’m leaving.”

“I will not be _starting on you_ , as you put it.”

Arthur had known it was childish even as he’d said it, but he didn’t care. He was beyond caring about anything.

“Firstly, you asked if I had any idea what Merlin meant to you,” Uther continued. “Yes, Arthur, I do. Your mother meant everything to me and never a day goes by that I don’t miss her. And no, I didn’t want you to be involved with Merlin.”

Arthur looked away, disgusted. “I knew it.”

“Did you? It wasn’t because I didn’t approve of him, or because of any homophobic feelings you believe I might have, and it wasn’t even because I disliked him. Actually he seemed a little young but pleasant enough, very bright and his mother is a charming woman. You could under normal circumstances do far worse. But these aren’t normal circumstances, are they?”

Arthur couldn’t argue with that. He gave a brief shake of his head.

“Thank you. No, I didn’t want you to get involved with him because I didn’t want to see the pain in your eyes when you lost him. The pain I can see there right now. But you fell in love with him, and now you’re hurt. And I’m sorry, I really am. Because I do know what that’s like, Arthur and I wanted you to be spared that.”

Arthur couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. He thought it might have been the kindest thing his father had ever said to him. He had never realised that his father could be kind.

“And the other thing is that you seem to think I look upon you as some kind of failure.”

“You do.” Arthur couldn’t imagine any scenario in which Uther could argue against that one.

“I assure you that I do not. You’re my son. You’re my only son, my only surviving child. I want the very best for you, I want _you_ to be the best that you possibly can be. And perhaps that comes across as me being harsh, but look at yourself! You did so well academically. I couldn’t have been prouder when you graduated with a first. I did some enquiries. You had the highest mark ever on your course.”

“You could have told me that at the time.” 

“I didn’t want you to become complacent. And you’ve done so well since joining the family company. When I retire I know I’ll be leaving it in the most capable hands possible. Yours, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say. And his father, once he’d started, didn’t seem to want to stop. It was amazing and awful at the same time. Arthur had needed to know all that when he was younger. It didn’t matter so much now.

“Morgana was always troubled,” Uther continued. “That held her back so I could never expect her to do as well as I would expect you to. You were brilliant at school, always doing so well both academically and on the sports field, I was so proud then as well.”

“You never said that. You criticised everything. I didn’t dare even get a B…”

“Because you were always, always worthy of the top mark. I didn’t want you settling for anything less. You’re a Pendragon, the last of us I suppose unless you have children yourself. As I said, I wanted you to be the best that you could possibly be. I will always want that. And I am truly sorry if I’ve made you feel that isn’t the case or that I love you any the less for it. You are the most important thing in my life, and will be until the day I die.”

Uther Pendragon was unbelievable. Arthur knew it. He also knew that he was going to think about what had been said there for a very long time to come. 

“I didn’t know,” he said. Because all the accusations and the anger seemed pointless in the face of his father’s unexpected love. 

“No. Well, I shall try to explain myself better in future.”

Not be kinder, not be less critical, just explain himself better. It was laughable really. Arthur didn’t feel like laughing though.

“We’ll start the search in the morning for your Merlin,” Uther added. “Is his mother staying at yours or at Gwen’s now? I’ll drop by on my way home and tell her the news. The poor woman must be devastated after this evening’s show.”

“She’s at Gwen’s tonight in case there was any increased media coverage today.”

“A wise move. That was a cruel trick Agravaine played with the signature. I find it hard to believe that man is any relation to your dear mother, Arthur. She was always kindness itself. You’re very like her, you know. Very much so. Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, well… Enough of this.” Uther got to his feet, looking supremely uncomfortable and Arthur knew the attempt at a heart to heart was over. “Take that… _thing_ and lock it up in one of the offices. Then go and get some sleep, Arthur. I promise you that I’ll put all the resources I can into finding Merlin.”

“You mean Gwen,” Arthur gave a wry smile.

“Well. She’s quite brilliant, obviously.”

“Another person that you need to tell these things to,” Arthur pointed out.

“Oh really, Arthur. Have you any idea how many times she’s threatened to leave and I’ve increased her pay? Believe me, she _knows!_ I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, Uther left.

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure that money was an even balance for the way Uther treated Gwen sometimes, but it did explain why she stayed and why she had such a nice house. She was probably aiming to retire at forty or something. Good on her, he thought. Gwen was lovely and deserved all the best things.

Arthur went to the locker where he’d had to put his belongings during filming and pulled out his phone, thinking that he’d call Gwen and warn her that his father was heading over. The phone had been on silent, not that he’d have been able to hear it, and he saw he’d missed quite a few calls. Most of them were from Gwen. She’d left messages. The first one was several hours old.

“Arthur, there’s a man who just turned up at reception. Says his name’s Lance Du Lac. And… he has something to tell you...”

\---


	20. Chapter 20

Merlin was alive. Perhaps that would only be temporary, he soon realised, but for the time being at least he was alive.

For the first few moments after he’d woken up Merlin hadn’t known where he was. Everything was white and sterile-looking. His head was thumping like mad so he thought that perhaps he’d had an accident and was lying in a hospital bed. And then Morgause’s face swam into view and he knew it was no hospital.

Vaguely he recalled hearing Edwin’s voice just before he’d lost consciousness. They must have hit him across the back of the head, although his arm was sore too so perhaps there had been a tranquiliser or something to keep him under. Merlin had a very hazy memory of being inside a moving vehicle, of someone holding him down.

That was good, in a bizarre way. It meant he hadn’t been unconscious due to the blow for very long. He was going to be okay. 

Well, if he could get away from Du Bois anyway.

“He’s awake,” Morgause called to someone behind her. 

Several people appeared around his bedside. He recognised Edwin and Nimueh. There was also a tall, cruel-faced, dark-haired man that he recalled from his previous stay at Du Bois as being someone senior in their security personnel. Merlin hadn’t fallen foul of him that time, but he was fairly certain that the man had been the one dragging Mordred out none too gently.

“Hello Merlin,” Nimueh said far too pleasantly. “Nice to have you back.”

His throat felt dry and scratchy when he tried to answer. “Can’t say the feeling’s mutual.”

“You’ve caused us a great deal of trouble,” Nimueh continued. “Sneaky thing. Did you hide yourself while you were here? Pretend to be a clone?”

“Of course.”

“Clever,” Morgause commented. “We’ll watch out for that. You said at the time, Nim, that you thought there was another’s magic on him.”

“Indeed. I didn’t imagine it would be his own. Lessons learned, so thank you for that, Merlin. We won’t be making that mistake again.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Merlin had to ask. He was quite sure he wouldn’t like the answer.

Nimueh shrugged. “I don’t know. You aren’t unique, you know? We’ve had other magic users come through. Most are weak and the magic doesn’t come back when we revive the corpse. But there have been a few like you. Mordred Black is one.”

Merlin glanced around but he was the only one held captive in that room. Mordred, he thought, would completely lose his mind if he found himself back there. Merlin was having trouble not getting hysterical himself. He supposed the dark-haired man would enjoy restraining him too much.

“Where is he?”

“Still with the TV people,” Edwin grumbled. “Cenred here botched the retrieval.”

“You botched it, you mean,” Cenred, the dark-haired man, snapped. “Bloody useless scientist. We had a chance to grab him and you let yourself be fooled by some ridiculous story about him running off. My team went all the way to Dover before we realised it was a lie. Your boyfriend,” he told Merlin, “is keeping him under guard. Lucky for us that he wasn’t as careful with you!”

Merlin felt a surge of pride in Arthur. “Oh he tried. I’m a special kind of stupid, apparently. You should let me go. He’ll be coming after me.”

“You think?” Edwin asked. He might have been smiling, it was difficult to tell on his heavily scarred face. “He’s got the clone he paid for now. We grew it, updated the information file in it, and sent it to him. He’ll think it’s you.”

Merlin frowned at him, confused. “You gave it my memories?”

They all laughed at him for that.

“Of course not,” Morgause told him. “It’s clearly a clone. But Pendragon won’t be able to prove that it’s not the same clone that’s been in his possession for the past couple of weeks.”

“We even gave it your scar,” Edwin added. 

“He’ll think we’ve done something and sent you back,” Morgause continued. “And while Arthur wastes time trying to fix you, because he will, Agravaine is going on TV to discredit all the allegations that have been made. By the time anyone works out the truth it will be far too late because the world will have seen that you are, in fact, a clone.”

“I’m not.”

“The version of you that goes on TV with Agravaine will be,” Edwin assured him. “And that’s all that matters.”

“And what about me?” Merlin asked again.

“As I said, I don’t know,” Nimueh told him.

“But you don’t actually exist,” Edwin put in.

“So it doesn’t really matter what we do,” Cenred added nastily. He leaned in closer, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was looking Merlin up and down. “We could do anything to you, Merlin, anything at all. And it wouldn’t be illegal.”

“Oh my god, Cenred,” Morgause told him disgustedly. “We’ll do what we have to and nothing more! This is bad enough as it is. You,” she pointed at Merlin. “Get up.”

Morgause appeared to be the least awful of the quartet, so doing as she said seemed wise. Merlin sat up, immediately regretting it as his vision swam for a moment and he thought he was going to be sick. Although throwing up over Cenred felt like a good idea. Gingerly he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, still feeling queasy. 

“What are you intending?” Nimueh asked.

“Just lock him up with the others for now,” Morgause told her. 

“Agreed,” Nimueh nodded. “I’d like to try wiping them all again though. See whether a higher dosage works. This one would be a good experiment. He’s strong. I’ve bound his magic for now but I’m not sure how long that will last for. But anything that works on him would work on the others.”

Merlin gazed at her in horror but she just shrugged, uncaring. He looked to Morgause, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. It would be too much to hope that there would be any help coming from that direction. She was the one who had wiped him the previous time.

“Hurry up,” Edwin urged, giving him a shove. 

Merlin stood up, stumbling a little on unsteady feet. His clothes, jeans and a t-shirt that Arthur had bought for him, were crumpled and stained. He really didn’t want to think about what some of those stains would be, particularly on the jeans.

Nimueh regarded him coldly for a moment, then turned away. “Keep him alive for testing,” she instructed, before heading for the door. “The rest too for now. Whatever we do, it’ll be all of them. We’re too far in now. We can’t risk them getting out and talking.”

It was a breathing space of sorts. Merlin had thought for a few moments that Nimueh might wipe his mind immediately. But she was hurrying away, obviously having other urgent matters to deal with. Instead he was left with the other three. Cenred was still eyeing him with a lascivious smile. 

“Let’s go,” Morgause instructed. “This way, Merlin.” She pointed to the door that Nimueh had just exited through.

The corridor beyond was familiar. Merlin could recall being taken there, docile and hiding his true self, before he’d been sold to Arthur. That seemed forever ago, although it could only have been a few weeks. So much had happened since then. And this time it was quite different.

“I don’t like the idea of just locking him in there” Edwin asked, giving Merlin an angry shove for good measure. “Little shit tricked us last time. I say we wipe him over and over, seeing as they seem to be able to remember it! See how long before he doesn’t come back.”

Merlin flinched.

“Oh yes, I think he likes that idea,” Cenred smirked. “We should do that. Back to your lab?”

“Just put him in with the others like Nimueh said. She wants to be the one to do the wipe,” Morgause ordered. “And just leave him, Ed, this is enough of a mess without making it worse.”

“We should get that bloody politician as well,” Edwin snarled. “Stuck up little madam, thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“Yeah, trying to ruin us,” Cenred agreed. “And just for the record, Morgause, it can’t get any worse. If this gets out we’ll all down for life sentences. You think being nice to him now is going to make a difference?”

Cenred obviously had a very strange idea of what being nice was, Merlin thought.

“We can’t argue that we don’t know he’s regained consciousness,” Morgause explained irritably. “He’s been on national TV, telling everyone. He was popular, a cute face for the media. People liked him. If Nimueh can’t wipe him permanently, if he’s ever out there again and we’ve wiped him a second time then there’s no possible excuse that can save us.”

Cenred laughed at that. “Blondie, nothing is going to save us if this gets out.” 

Merlin thought from the look on Morgause’s face that nothing was going to save Cenred full stop if he called her ‘blondie’ again. 

Cenred hadn’t noticed though, and carried on talking. “And he’s not going out there again, wiped or not. Too much of a risk. So it doesn’t matter what we do to this little worm or any of the others in there. Lance, Kanan!” he called to the two guards standing outside a solid-looking door at the end of the corridor. “Open up!”

Merlin had a horrible feeling that if he went through that door he wouldn’t be coming out. It wasn’t the same as the other doors along that corridor. They all probably led to something similar to the little waiting room that he’d been in before. This one looked altogether more permanent. 

As the door opened, the foul air from within hit them. 

“Ugh,” Morgause covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve as best she could. “That’s gross.”

She wasn’t wrong. Merlin couldn’t help recoiling from it a little and Cenred noticed.

“Aw, not as pleasantly scented as Pendragon’s place?” Cenred crowed. “I bet he hasn’t even noticed you’re gone! Bet your replacement’s an improvement!”

“You can get help for that gambling problem,” Merlin couldn’t help saying. He had no fears that Arthur wouldn’t have noticed a difference. Arthur, he was certain, would be doing everything in his power to rescue Merlin. It was just a matter of time. All Merlin had to do was stay alive. 

“Cheeky little shit!” Cenred looked as if he were about to physically retaliate too, which might not help with the staying alive part, but Morgause stepped in swiftly.

“Leave it, Cen. You,” she spoke to one of the guards, a handsome, olive-skinned man with sorrowful eyes. “Put him with the others.”

The guard was frowning at Merlin in puzzlement.

“Isn’t that the guy who was on _The_ _Monmouth Report_?” he asked. 

“I don’t pay you to ask questions!” Cenred yelled at him. “Just get him inside and don’t let him back out! Jeez… we’re scraping the barrel now!”

Morgause regarded the two guards thoughtfully. “They’re new.”

“No,” Cenred told her grumpily. “They’re from reception. They’ve been with us for months. We’ve had a lot of resignations in the past week. ”

“Wonder why?” Merlin said flippantly, earning himself a slap around the head from Cenred. It wasn’t playful, and it hurt. By the time his head had stopped ringing he’d already been shoved into the darkness beyond the door. He had a brief sight of pale faces staring sadly at him, and then the door closed behind him and they were plunged into darkness.

“Merlin…”

It was a woman’s voice, soft and low with a slightly lilting quality. 

“Hello?” he attempted.

“Finally. I knew you’d come. I saw it. I knew…”

Gaius had shown him a spell to conjure light, but Merlin’s magic hadn’t been responding well since he had been captured. He tried anyway, conjuring a small ball of blue light that sputtered and flickered.

There was a collective gasp from the other people in the room. It sounded as if there were a lot of them in there. He could see faces reflected in the light, all of them looking at him in wonder.

“I told you he would come,” the woman said. “I saw it. I saw him.”

The light was steadying a little. There were so many people, all gathering round him.

“Merlin,” the woman said again. She had stepped forward, closest to the light. Pale, as they all were, her face tired and drawn but still very beautiful, framed by long, straggly black hair with a single streak of white shot through it. Merlin had seen her face before. There were pictures of her younger self on the walls of Arthur’s apartment.

It was Morgana Pendragon.

\---


	21. Chapter 21

Morgana Pendragon was nothing like Merlin would have expected.

From everything he’d heard about her from Arthur he had pictured her as a frightened, troubled girl with little self-confidence. The reality was quite different.

Morgana was, as much as she could be, a leader amongst her fellow prisoners. She had been there longer than any of them, seen others come and go, and, crucially, she had hope where they had none. It had made her attractive to them, made her someone that they all listened to.

The prisoners were a strange mixture.

Morgana was confident, and had been down there for a very long time, but she was the only one. The rest were, with the exception of a frightened young man called Gilli, all either actual clones or magic users like Merlin who had gone out into the world and then been recalled. Gilli, like Morgana and Merlin, had regained his sense of self after Du Bois had revived him. His magic was strong. He’d been down there for months.

The actual clones sat quietly to one side of the room. They did very little other than eat and sleep as far as Merlin could tell. They had been ordered to stay put, and that was what they were doing. None of them showed anything that could be thought of as sentience.

“They’ll be wiped and sent back out again,” Morgana told him. “There’s no magic in them. And the suppressants in the food keep them under control like the good little clones that they are.”

The clone food was, of course, all that was available to eat. The handsome guard had brought it in a little while after Merlin’s arrival. 

“Still acting as tea lady, Lance?” Morgana asked. “All you need is a little pinny. Maybe a hat?”

Lance had smiled at her, and handed her a bowl of food. Then he’d turned to Merlin and offered him a bowl too.

“No thanks,” Merlin put up a hand, refusing. “I’ve seen what’s in that stuff.”

“Take it,” Morgana advised. “You have to eat.”

Lance offered the bowl again, and this time Merlin reluctantly accepted. His eyes widened in surprise when he realised that he was being handed something else as well, a small wrapped bar under the bowl. Lance put a finger to his lips, and Merlin tried to hide his reaction.

“Saw you on TV,” Lance whispered. But before Merlin could say anything in response, Lance had already moved to the next person.

“Wait until he’s gone,” Morgana advised quietly. “And eat a bit of the muck. I know it’s drugged but if you don’t eat it they’ll get suspicious.”

“Don’t do drugs, kids!” Merlin quipped. 

Morgana smiled at him. “I’m so happy you’re here, Merlin. I see why my brother likes you so much.”

Lance had finished dishing out the food and was heading for the door. As soon as he was gone they were plunged into darkness.

“Don’t give us light yet,” Morgana whispered. “Eat.”

Merlin quickly unwrapped the bar that Lance had given him. It was fruit and nut, chocolate coated. Beside him he could hear Morgana unwrapping hers and eating. And a few others were doing the same.

Quickly he devoured it. There was as much chance of that being poisoned as there was the regular food, and at least it tasted good. Morgana seemed to trust that it would be okay. And she was a seer so probably had a better idea than most.

“And now light,” she told him when they had both finished.

Merlin obliged. He’d extinguished his light when the door had started to open, but had few illusions that there wouldn’t be cameras in there that had already picked up on what he was doing.

“Thank you,” Morgana smiled. “And now you can tell me more.”

Morgana had demanded to know all about Arthur and Uther almost as soon as Merlin had arrived. She’d sat him down, and wanted to hear everything. Even the smallest of things were of interest to her. 

“Don’t you want to know about the world out there?” Merlin asked at one point.

“No. I hear the news from others when they come in. The world changes and doesn’t affect us in here. I want to know about my family. And you. Because you’re my family too now.”

Merlin had been with Arthur for less than two weeks. It did feel as if he could stay with Arthur forever, but in reality it was still only early days. But Morgana clearly didn’t want to hear about that. Her eyes were shining, reflected in the little light that Merlin had created. 

“Tell me about your home. And your magic. Who taught you? What did Arthur say when he found out? Do you get on with my father? He can be difficult sometimes. Oh, I’ve missed them so much. I can’t wait to see them again.”

She was absolutely convinced that Merlin was there to save them all. The fact that they were sitting in a locked cell that she’d been unable to leave for the last few years didn’t appear to have any relevance.

The other people still sat around them, watching. Merlin could understand how Morgana would draw them to her. She was vibrant, alive. Everyone held there, Morgana included, was pale and wan. But most of the others seemed to have given up hope, going through the motions of being alive.

“It’s partly the food,” Morgana had told him. “They use it to suppress our magic and it acts as a depressant. But we have to eat.”

“What about…?” Merlin left the rest of the sentence unsaid, but nudged the rolled-up energy bar wrapper. He didn’t know how much their captors could hear and certainly didn’t want Lance getting into trouble if he was on their side.

“I saw,” she said. “I trust.”

And that was all she would say on the matter. He understood why, but it was frustrating.

When their next meal came it was a different guard delivering. There was nothing extra, and the man looked right through Merlin as if he wasn’t there.

Three more clones were brought in at that point. One was the image of Morgana. Unlike the other two, who were complacent and sat quietly when directed to, the Morgana clone refused to do so.

“I must return home. Where is Percival? I should not be here. Please allow me to leave.”

The door closed on her protests, leaving them all in darkness once more. Merlin cast his light spell again. 

“Interesting,” Morgana commented, heading over to the newcomer. “I was told that my clone was useless, unwanted.”

“Emily,” Merlin called, guessing that this was the clone that Arthur had met. “Is that you?”

The clone turned to look at him. “Where is Percival?”

“She’s sentient,” Merlin explained. “Arthur’s been meeting her… um… Percival.”

“Owner,” Morgana supplied helpfully. “He’s her owner, Merlin. Until the law changes.” She took Emily’s hand. “Come away from the door. Sit with me.”

Emily gazed at her. “Who are you? You look like me.”

“Ah, you’re very sweet, aren’t you?” Morgana reached up and ran a gentle hand down Emily’s face. “Did he treat you well, this Percival?”

“Percival is very kind. Where is he? They hurt him. I must go to him.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Morgana sighed. “The best thing you can do is stay with us and keep quiet. We’ll be free soon. Merlin is here.”

Merlin still had no idea how he was supposed to help. Morgana seemed to think he was there as some kind of saviour. 

“What can I do?” he asked, not for the first time.

Morgana smiled at him. “For now, just wait.”

Which really wasn’t very satisfactory at all. But then she suddenly drew him into a fierce hug and whispered, so quiet that no microphone could have picked it up.

“Lance.”

And Merlin found a stubby pencil and scrap of paper pressed into his hand.

Lance didn’t return until what might have been the next day. Tracking time in there with no sense of day or night was difficult.

But when he did, when the guard handed out the bowls of the tasteless, disgusting gloop that passed for food, Merlin was ready. 

He just hoped that Morgana was correct.

\---

When Arthur returned to Pendragon Robotics that night, Gwen was still there waiting for him.

At her side, sitting in the third floor kitchen nursing a mug of coffee and deep in conversation with Gwen, was a man Arthur had never seen before. He was dark-haired and handsome. From the way that the pair of them were leaning together, heads and hands not quite touching but almost there, Arthur thought perhaps Gwen had a new boyfriend. But then they noticed him, and sprang apart guiltily.

The message on Arthur’s phone was around four hours old by that stage. They’d obviously been getting to know one another all that time.

“Arthur!” Gwen greeted him. 

The man looked as if he were about to speak, but then seemed distracted by something at a point behind Arthur. Arthur glanced behind him and saw Jacob was standing there watching them, absolutely still. 

“Jacob, go to my office and shut the door behind you,” Arthur ordered.

Jacob dutifully obeyed. He might have been standing there just because he was awaiting instruction, Arthur thought. He hoped that was all it was. There was no way to be sure. 

They all watched Jacob go. Once the door was shut behind him, Arthur closed the kitchen door as well for good measure. Even if Jacob had been given incredible hearing, he shouldn’t be able to hear them.

“Thank you,” the man said. “It’s best if you don’t say anything in front of that clone that you don’t want Du Bois to hear. They’ve set him up with an internal microphone, they can hear everything that he can.”

“I see. And you know this how?”

“Arthur, this is Lance,” Gwen told him.

“Hello Lance,” Arthur greeted him impassively, not sure what to make of the man’s sudden appearance. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

Lance glanced nervously at Gwen, who smiled encouragingly at him. He stood up and offered Arthur his hand. 

“I’m Lance Du Lac. I’m a security guard at Du Bois.”

Arthur was immediately suspicious. After Agravaine’s trick with Jacob earlier, he was even more wary than ever.

“What do you want?” He didn’t take Lance’s hand and after a moment Lance withdrew the gesture.

“I work for Du Bois.”

“So you said.”

“Arthur!” Gwen exclaimed. “Don’t be rude. Hear him out.”

“Fine.” Arthur had really had enough for one day. “But if this is some sort of con…”

“It’s not,” Lance assured him. 

“He has news of Merlin,” Gwen put in. “Arthur, he’s alive. And Jacob _is_ a clone.”

“I know,” Arthur told her. “He’s not a completely identical copy. They missed something.”

“What?” Gwen asked. 

Arthur looked pointedly at Lance, then back at her and didn’t reply.

“You’re right not to trust me,” Lance said. “Why would you? But I can’t just sit back and watch what’s happening and not do anything. I don’t know what change they missed, and I don’t want to know either. But Merlin is alive, or he was this afternoon when I finished my shift.”

“Where is he?”

“Inside the processing plant at Du Bois Inc. There’s a couple of basement floors. That’s where they deal with the magic users.”

“They have more than just Merlin in there?” Arthur asked. He wasn’t at all surprised, but if Lance turned out to be genuine then he wanted as much information as possible.

“Thirty-eight of them, including Merlin at the last count. I have to take their food in to them, the guy I’m on duty with says the smell makes him sick.”

“Sounds a charmer,” Arthur commented.

“Kanen’s not the best co-worker I’ve ever had,” Lance admitted. “But it meant I could go in alone and talk to them.”

“And they’re all magic users?” Gwen asked.

“No, they’re a mixture. There are a few whose magic couldn’t be supressed at all. Most are like Merlin, ones that were turned into unique clones and then recalled recently. They don’t all have magic, some of them are actual clones and most of them are quite docile and confused. The magic users are frightened or angry. Or both.”

Behind them, the kitchen door opened. Gwaine sauntered in, Mordred trotting along behind him. 

“Hi Arthur! You met Gwen’s bloke then?”

Gwen immediately shushed him. “Gwaine!”

Lance gazed at her with a soft, fond expression on his face. Gwen, for her part, appeared supremely flustered and embarrassed. Gwaine didn’t look even remotely sorry, and turned one of the plastic kitchen chairs around so that he could straddle it and lean forward, supported by what should have been the backrest.

“I like to say what I see!”

“Yes, we’ve noticed, thank you,” Gwen told him through gritted teeth. “Why Leon puts up with you, I don’t know!”

“I’m great in bed!” Gwaine boasted, leaning forward and winking at her.

Arthur gave him an annoyed look. “We’re trying to have a serious conversation here, Gwaine.”

Gwaine just shrugged. “Don’t mind me! Ah, here he is!” 

Leon arrived at that point and Gwaine waved him in. 

“So, thirty-eight people are being held?” Arthur queried after briefly getting Leon caught up. “And are there any more being held elsewhere in the building?”

“Not that I know of. But they don’t tell us much. I only got moved down to the lower floors this week. After _The Monmouth Report_ quite a few people resigned.”

“And yet you’re the only one who’s come forward?” Gwaine queried. Arthur’s surprise must have shown in his face. “What? I can ask proper questions too! It’s one of the reasons I got my job. But still, great in bed, right Leon!” he winked.

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes.

“I don’t know what happened to them,” Lance admitted. “Nobody’s heard from the people who resigned. “Cenred says there’s a non-communication clause you have to sign when you leave, but I don’t know. Word is that resigning isn’t a good move.”

“And yet you’re here talking to us,” Arthur pointed out.

“Arthur!” Gwen exclaimed.

“But he’s right, Gwen. Arthur, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. As I said, you’re right to be suspicious. But from what Gwen’s told me I think you and I are very similar in many ways. And I’ll ask you this – if you were me, if you’d seen those poor people locked up with no hope, would _you_ just turn a blind eye? _Could_ you?”

“No.” Arthur looked around at the others. “I don’t think any of us could. But how do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“He gave me a message.” Lance carefully took a crumpled and stained piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Arthur. 

‘Arthur Pendragon’ was written on one side. The other was a note that Arthur recognised as Merlin’s messy scrawl. ‘I never took any money from _your_ handbag to buy _you_ a birthday gift. Trust Lance.’ 

“Does that make any sense?” Lance asked. “Seemed pretty random.”

“Merlin’s alive!” Gwaine breathed. “Thank god. I knew that thing wasn’t him! Well I hoped, anyway.”

“Handbag, Arthur?” Leon raised a puzzled eyebrow, but Arthur ignored him. 

“Okay, how do we get him out?” Arthur demanded. “Can we break in?”

“No. Security is too tight. And they’ve already effectively killed people,” Lance warned. “Those magic users, I’ve seen them being turned into an empty shell. You need to be careful.”

“I’ll risk it. How do I get in?”

“Okay. I can help you. I’m on guard duty at the main gate tomorrow evening. We’re short on staff and I should be the only one there. I can let you in. And here,” he pulled some papers out of his bag, “these are the plans of the facility. I’ve marked where there are sensors, cameras and guards. I can’t help you once you’re in there.”

Leon took the plans and began studying them. “We can do this. Look, if we go in here, there’s a blind spot just there,” he pointed. “And then we’ll be visible on camera by this stage but I’ve done this before. What you do is sneak underneath them and reach up and black the lens. They’ll realise something is wrong but they can’t see what it is until they get down there. “

Leon, Arthur knew, had snuck into many buildings in his line of work. Arthur had always supposed that it had been exaggerated for television, but perhaps that wasn’t the case after all. Leon had already got his notebook out and was jotting things down, his face creased with concentration.

“Sneaky!” Gwaine grinned. “I like it!”

“I have to go,” Lance told them. “I’ve stayed here too long as it is. But 7pm tomorrow come to the front gate. I’ll let you in. Park in one of the bays at the side, here,” he pointed to a spot on one of the plans, “and then come to reception.”

Arthur nodded, then held out his hand. “Thank you,” he said, grasping Lance’s hand firmly. “I can’t tell you how much this means.”

Lance gave him a sad smile. “I know. Just get them out, okay?” 

“I’ll show you out,” Gwen offered. 

“Selfless,” Gwaine smirked, then yelped when she flicked him on the arm. 

“I just want this over so that _you_ go back home!” she told him. “Honestly Arthur, today has been the longest day _ever_ stuck here with this one!”

Arthur could well imagine Gwaine would try Gwen’s patience. Especially as he would probably have become quite bored shut up in there for the day, no matter how well he’d been doing with Mordred.

“Poor Gwen,” Leon commented. He looked around and spotted Mordred sitting over in the corner by himself. “Mordred, come over here, I need your help.”

The young man got up and walked over, sitting down in the seat that Lance had just vacated. He was holding something close to his chest. Arthur frowned. It looked like a picture frame.

“What’s that you’ve got, Mordred?” he asked.

“Ah, it’s some picture he picked up. He went in your office earlier, Arthur,” Gwaine explained. “Sorry, I did get him to leave but he insisted on taking the picture. Can’t blame him, she’s a beautiful woman.”

There were only two pictures of women in Arthur’s office. One was of his mother, smiling at him, caught in a moment in time. It was on the wall. The other was of his sister, sitting with himself on a beach when they were both teenagers, both happy, both laughing at the person taking the photo. That was the one Mordred was holding, Arthur recognised the frame.

He could make a copy easily enough. But he really didn’t like the idea of Mordred or anyone else lusting over his dead sister. Arthur held out his hand.

“That’s mine, Mordred, please give it back.”

Mordred’s eyes darkened, and he held the frame close. “More.”

“He keeps saying that. Think he wants other pictures!” Gwaine winced. “Sorry mate, I think he’s harmless though.”

“More.”

Gwaine had been doing really well with Mordred, and he’d lost out to Arthur with Merlin, so Arthur cut him some slack. 

“Are you trying to say Morgana, Mordred?” he asked gently. 

Mordred nodded eagerly, his face lighting up. He turned the picture around so that they could all see it. “More.”

Arthur and Leon exchanged apprehensive looks.

“Do you know her?” Leon asked carefully. 

Mordred nodded again.

“Is she still alive?”

Once more Mordred nodded.

“Oh my god!” Arthur exclaimed. “I knew it! As soon as we knew what Merlin was, I just knew, in my heart, she was alive.” He got to his feet. “I can’t wait around for Lance’s shift. They’re both in there. I’m going now!”

“Arthur!” Leon moved quickly to block his path. “No. We have one shot at this. Morgana’s waited two years…”

“Two years! They’ve had her for two years, Leon!”

“She’s waited two years. I guarantee you that she would rather wait now until we have the best possible chance of getting her out of there. I know it’s difficult, but you’ve got to be patient. If we rush in there we could lose everything.”

“But they might be moved!” Arthur exclaimed. “How do we even know they’ll still be alive tomorrow?”

“We don’t even know if they’re still alive now,” Leon pointed out. “Just be patient. Now Mordred, I need you to look at these plans with me.”

Mordred held the frame close again. Arthur had a feeling that he wouldn’t get it back even if he insisted. 

If only communicating with Mordred wasn’t so difficult. If only time would pass more quickly.

He waited. It was killing him to do so.

He just prayed that it wasn’t also killing Merlin and Morgana.

\---


	22. Chapter 22

True to his word, Uther Pendragon turned up in the office on Saturday morning.

Arthur hadn’t expected him to bring Hunith and Gaius with him. And he certainly hadn’t expected Elyan and Will to turn up.

“Couldn’t get an answer on Merlin’s phone,” Will grumbled. “Been trying for two days. Gwaine told me what’s been going on and that you’re staging a rescue. So. I’m here for it. Thanks for letting me know!”

“Gwen told me what was happening,” Elyan said. “I don’t have anything else to do today so I thought I’d come over.”

Uther looked around the kitchen critically. Arthur wondered whether his father had ever been in there before. Normally all his meetings were conducted in boardrooms or his own office. But the third floor kitchen had simply become more practical.

Leon had pushed several tables together and had the plans spread out over them. He and Gwaine had been working on them with Mordred and had got a probable route worked out. Not that Mordred had been much help. From what they’d managed to piece together, he had spent most of his time either in a lab or in the cell with Morgana. But at least he’d been able to confirm that the room Lance had marked was indeed where they were being held. It gave everyone a bit more confidence.

Unless of course both Lance and Mordred were working for Du Bois and it was just an elaborate trap. It was impossible to tell.

Mordred still had Morgana’s picture. Arthur hadn’t had the heart to even try to take it from him. He wasn’t sure his father would be as complacent. So far he hadn’t noticed. 

Mostly Uther was watching Will with deep suspicion. Will had turned up in scuffed trainers, jeans so worn they almost had holes and a ratty rugby shirt. Apparently he’d got on a train first thing and was still in yesterday’s clothes.

“Who is _that_?” he asked Arthur at the first opportunity.

“Merlin’s best friend, Will,” Arthur told him, then added; “Hunith said he was very kind to her after she lost her son.”

That seemed to pacify Uther a little. He attempted a smile at Will, who stared at him as if he’d grown two heads and carried on eating one of the bacon rolls that Gwaine had fetched from the Greggs down the street.

They could probably have sent one of the robots to fetch them but Arthur wasn’t going to risk it just in case it got tampered with on the way there or back. He hadn’t even allowed the cleaning model onto the floor that morning, just in case Du Bois had managed to override the programming somehow. And he kept Jacob well out of sight.

Arthur had moved Jacob to one of the meeting rooms. He felt bad about shutting the clone in there, but didn’t really know what else to do with him. Jacob stared at him mournfully. He was staying wherever Arthur asked him to, but Arthur hadn’t forgotten how easily Agravaine had been able to control him at the TV studio. Keeping Jacob well away from their plans was essential. 

He had no idea what he would do with Jacob once they’d rescued Merlin and Morgana. Unlike Emily he had not shown any signs of sentience, so other than using him for the purpose he was made there were limits as to what could be done with him. Perhaps kind treatment would have to be enough? Arthur didn’t know. He left one of the Pendragon robots with him, then thought better of it in case Jacob programmed it to kill him or something. Instead Arthur took some books in and gave them to Jacob to read. When he looked in again Jacob was just sitting there, the books untouched.

“Poor boy,” Hunith said sadly, appearing at his side. “I suppose he’s sort of my son too, in a strange way. An unnatural brother for Merlin.”

She really was far too kind-hearted, Arthur thought. “We’ll worry about what he is or isn’t when this is over,” he told her. “But for now, keep away. He’s under Du Bois’ control and might not be safe.”

“I think I can look after myself, Arthur,” she told him with a smile.

“But Merlin would never, ever forgive me if a single hair on your head was harmed,” Arthur insisted. He loved that he was rewarded with a gentle, sympathetic hug. 

“I know that if anyone can get our boy back, it’s you, Arthur.”

“The waiting around is absolutely killing me,” Arthur admitted to her as they walked back to the kitchen together. “Leon’s threatened to lock me in one of these rooms as well if I try to leave early. I know we’ve got to wait but I hate it. I just want them all safe.”

She patted his arm kindly. “I’ll make you all a cup of tea,” she offered.

Arthur thanked her, then went to sit with his father. There was something that he needed to tell him, and it wasn’t going to be easy. He wondered if they should go to his office where Arthur could shut and lock the door. Because Uther was going to find it just as difficult as Arthur to restrain himself once he discovered that Morgana was still alive.

There was no way to soft-soap it either.

“Arthur,” Uther said as soon as his son sat down. “Why is that odd young man, the one who can’t talk, carrying a picture of Morgana around with him? Isn’t that the one from your desk? I don’t think that’s very appropriate.”

“He knows her.” Arthur took a deep breath and then just went for it. “We think she’s alive. We believe she’s being held along with Merlin and some others.”

“What?”

“Mordred met her when he was at Du Bois. She was alive then, there’s every reason to hope she’s still alive.”

Uther started to get up, then sat back down again, staring at Arthur in shock. “Alive?”

“We can’t be sure. But there’s hope.”

“We should go now!”

Leon looked up. “I’m sorry Mr Pendragon, but no. I’ve already had to stop Arthur trying to leave, please don’t make me restrain you too. I’m quite prepared to lock the pair of you in his office.”

Leon looked _far_ too pleased as he said that, Arthur thought. No doubt it was very belated payback for that summer holiday years ago where Leon had been dumped on the railway platform for taking Morgana on a date.

Uther just stared at him, then back at Arthur. “She’s alive?” he asked again.

Hunith appeared at his side with a cup of tea. “I know exactly how you feel,” she told him, putting the cup down on the table in front of him. “Finding out that my Merlin was still alive was the most shocking and wonderful thing. It’ll be the same for you with your daughter.”

“I’m coming with you!” Uther demanded. 

“No,” Leon called over. “Sorry, but you’re just too recognisable.”

“You’re on TV every Friday night!” Uther pointed out. “If anyone’s too recognisable it’s not me!”

Hunith sat down next to him. “Quite right. But the boys have been working on this all night as far as I can tell. And we can’t all go. Somebody needs to stay as backup in case things go wrong.”

“That’s true,” Arthur agreed. 

“Obviously Gaius, Gwen and I will be here,” Hunith continued, “but really we need someone who can go in if things go wrong. And that won’t be any of us.”

Arthur wasn’t sure he’d bet against Hunith or Gwen in that particular situation but he kept quiet. 

“That is true I suppose,” Uther mused. 

“That’s good. I feel much happier knowing you’ll be here with us,” Hunith told him. She smiled across at Arthur and gave a brief, almost imperceptible wink.

Arthur looked down to hide a smile. 

\---

Never had a day passed more slowly, but eventually the time came for them to leave. 

Arthur had originally thought that it would just be himself and Leon. Leon was set up with a body camera and was always ready for a good story. Arthur wasn’t at all surprised that he was eager to take the risk. But Will and Gwaine also insisted on coming along.

“Try and stop me!” Gwaine growled. 

At his side, Will nodded agreement. “Try and stop either of us!”

“And we’re sure we can trust this Lance bloke?” Elyan asked. “He could be a plant from Du Bois.”

“I believe him,” Arthur admitted. “And yes, I know I might be setting myself up for a fall. We might be too late and Merlin’s already dead. But I have to know that I did everything I could. None of you have to come with me.”

And then Elyan got up as well. “I’m in.”

“You barely know Merlin.”

“Untrue. I’ve been working here on all the days when he’s been in. We’ve had long chats in the break room, had a few lunches. I like him. So. I’m in.”

Leon looked at them all. “Lucky I’ve got a big car,” he commented. “Come on then, let’s go for it. Honestly, this is the largest group I’ve ever taken on an undercover story.”

“I don’t want to be on TV,” Will grumbled. “People are still taking the piss from last week.”

“You don’t have to come,” Arthur reminded him yet again.

Will just grunted something unintelligible and followed Leon down to the car park.

“We’ll need to be careful,” Arthur warned as they headed out. “Percival was attacked in this car park. Just be on your guard. They don’t know we’re coming, so we should be okay, but they might be waiting around in case you bring Mordred out.”

Du Bois were still sending out product recall notices. Leon had received two calls and five messages that day alone. There had been no question of taking Mordred with them.

The way to Leon’s car was blocked. It wasn’t anyone from Du Bois though. Instead, standing in front of Leon’s car in a little group were Alator and his followers.

There was no avoiding them. 

“I’d hoped we’d seen the last of them,” Arthur commented quietly to Leon, who nodded agreement.

“Arthur Pendragon!” Alator called. 

Arthur reluctantly raised a hand in greeting.

“Hi Alator!” Gwaine called, but the self-styled high priest ignored him. “Oh. No more prayer-sharing then?”

“The time that has been awaited is now upon us,” Alator droned. “Arthur Pendragon, you will lead the lost away from their damnation and clear a path to the light.”

“Oh no, not this again,” Arthur muttered. “We really haven’t got time for his rantings.”

“The sun is setting upon the final day,” Alator continued. “Excalibur has arisen.”

“Oh you have to be kidding me!” Arthur exclaimed. 

One of Alator’s followers, a petite dark-haired girl, stepped forward. She was holding a sword out in front of her, the blade flat on the palms of her hands.

“Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government!” Leon quoted.

“She’s not lying in a pond,” Gwaine pointed out.

“Excalibur though,” Leon replied. “I mean, really!”

Alator ignored their comments. “Freya of the waters bears the sacred sword.”

“Waters… Pond!” Arthur heard Leon whisper to Gwaine. “See what I mean?”

“Excalibur was forged in the breath of a dragon, forged for a king. Only the reborn king may wield Excalibur, and only when the need of Albion is great.”

“Pity we don’t have any kings here,” Will muttered. “Look, mate,” he said to Alator. “No offence but we’re in a hurry, can you lot just move out of the way?”

The girl, Freya, stopped right in front of Arthur, still holding the sword out like an offering.

“Take Excalibur!” Alator boomed. “It will aid you in your quest.”

“I don’t think you can just carry something like that around,” Arthur told him. 

“Take it!” Alator ordered. “You will not succeed without Excalibur, Arthur.”

“Just take it,” Leon advised. “We need to leave.”

Carefully, because there wasn’t even a sheath to cover what looked like a pretty sharp blade, Arthur took the sword from Freya.

“Thank you.”

She bowed to him, smiled, then backed away, merging with the rest of her group.

“Fare ye well,” Alator told Arthur, also bowing to him. All his followers did likewise, then to Arthur’s enormous relief they all moved away from Leon’s car.

“Finally,” Leon grumbled, unlocking the car and getting into the driver’s seat. “Come on you lot, get in.”

Arthur sat in the front, still holding the sword. It was too large to put on the floor so he attempted to place it down the side of the passenger door. He just hoped Leon didn’t make any emergency stops. The thing would probably cut through the floor. Or worse, cut through Arthur.

Will, Elyan and Gwaine climbed into the back seat. Leon glanced over his shoulder at them, and then back at Arthur. 

“Ready?” he asked.

“Just go,” Arthur told him.

It might already be too late. But he wasn’t going to think about that. 

As they pulled out of the parking space, he realised that Alator and his followers had already vanished.

Weirdos.

\---

Du Bois Inc. processing plant was a massive construction.

Even in twilight that much was obvious. Equally obvious was the fact that visitors were not welcome. The place was surrounded by a security fence that had to be about four meters high. Anyone trying to scale that would hit the wires and spikes on the top, and if they weren’t deterrent enough there was a warning sign about the voltage running through it. And of course there were security cameras everywhere.

Nobody was going to get over that fence easily.

“Well this looks friendly!” Gwaine commented. “Welcome to Cloneville. Abandon hope all ye who enter.”

“I think that’s the point,” Arthur snapped. “Those people in there, Merlin and my sister, Emily and all the others, we _are_ their only hope.”

Gwaine didn’t reply, and when Arthur glanced back at him in the mirror he could see the guilt written all over Gwaine’s face. Everyone dealt with stress differently. Quips didn’t mean that Gwaine wasn’t worried.

Arthur looked down at the sword on his lap. Alator was insane. Of course he was. The thing wouldn’t get past the first security camera.

And yet it felt right, as if it belonged to Arthur. 

“Are we really just going to drive up to the front gate?” Will asked, peering out of the window at the imposing building. “Won’t they have guards with guns and things?”

“It’s what Lance told us to do,” Leon confirmed. “We can’t exactly climb over the fence. So, ready?”

“Here goes nothing,” Arthur sighed.

They drove up to the gate. Nobody seemed to be in the little guardhouse but then it was well after hours, and on a weekend. Most likely there would be security patrols going round. None were in sight.

There was what looked like an intercom on a post just ahead of the gate. Leon leaned out of the window and pressed the intercom button. 

Nobody spoke, but the gate immediately started to open. There was a camera on top of the gate. It turned to follow their car as they drove through the gateway.

“You think that was Lance letting us in?” Gwaine asked.

Leon shook his head. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Why didn’t he speak?”

“He might be overheard? Just concentrate on those plans. Where do I park? Over to the left of the main entrance?”

“Yeah. There’s no lights there.”

That was probably the idea, Arthur thought as they swung into one of the many empty parking bays. They could creep along under cover of darkness, so if there were any patrols they might not see them. Security seemed fairly lax though. He presumed the fence would be a good enough deterrent for most would-be intruders. The only other vehicle there was a large van, but it looked to be empty. Arthur wondered if Lance had parked it there. They’d need more than just Leon’s car to get the prisoners away. 

“Last chance to back out,” Leon warned them all. “Sometimes these things can get nasty. People don’t like it when you secretly film them. And when they see me they’ll probably guess I’ve got a bodycam.”

“Which is why the rest of us are also wearing them,” Arthur reminded him. 

“Correct.” Leon tapped his earpiece. “Tristan, have you got sound and vision?” He nodded. “Okay. Will, you’ve got your jacket covering the lens, move the clip up a little. Yes, that’s it. Perfect.”

“We’re like James Bond,” Elyan grinned. 

“Only sexier,” Gwaine told him. “Well, apart from Will.”

“Shut your face, Greene.”

“But it’s such a sexy face!”

“Quiet!” Leon hissed at them. “You two do realise how dangerous this is, don’t you? Shut up, or stay here.”

Gwaine mimed zipping his lips, and Will nodded agreement.

“Taking your sword?” Elyan asked Arthur.

It was tempting. But it was far too noticeable to carry around. And besides, a sword was such an old-fashioned weapon. No, it could stay in the car. 

“It stands out a bit too much,” Arthur told him. “Better to leave it behind.”

“No kidding,” Elyan inclined his head towards the car. “That’s pretty shiny.”

The sword, still down the side of the car seat, was starting to glow. The inside of the car was lighting up like a beacon.

“Shit!” Arthur opened the door and grabbed the sword, intending to hide it in the boot. But as soon as he took hold of it the glowing stopped.

“Okay,” Elyan raised an eyebrow. “That’s impressive. What’s powering that then?”

“Nothing,” Arthur frowned, turning the sword over. It was hard to see in the dark, but there was no good reason why the sword should have glowed like that. He opened up the boot and laid the sword down inside. The moment that he let go it started glowing again, brighter than ever. When he closed the boot the light was visible through a few small gaps. It was still going to be noticeable.

“Think that’s coming with us, mate,” Gwaine told him. 

Reluctantly Arthur opened the boot again and took out the sword. That was going to look very odd on the recordings from Elyan and Gwaine’s cameras.

“I can’t really hide it anywhere,” he commented. “It doesn’t even have a scabbard.”

Gwaine shrugged. “If we’re spotted we’ll have to make a run for it anyway. I don’t think carrying around some old sword is going to make any difference.”

And so Arthur walked with the others, carrying the sword at his side. The hilt did feel comfortable in his hand, although he had no idea how he was supposed to use a sword in battle. 

In contrast to the dark of the parking bays, the reception area was brightly lit. The doors slid open at their approach. 

True to his word, Lance was sitting in there, behind the desk, alone. He looked up at their approach and then his eyes widened in horror when he saw how many people Arthur had brought with him.

“Jesus, Arthur! I don’t know if I can sneak that many of you in!”

Gwaine nodded towards the monitor on the wall that displayed the reception area. “Don’t think that’s going to be a problem, mate.”

Arthur followed his gaze. The footage showed Lance in an empty reception area, looking up at the monitor in puzzlement.

“Is one of you a magic user?” Lance asked. 

“I wish!” Elyan replied with feeling.

Arthur frowned at him, confused.

“You work with Gaius too! We’re never going to be better than because he’s got magic and we haven’t!” Elyan grumbled. 

That was a good point, Arthur thought. But it didn’t explain why none of them were appearing on the monitor. 

Will frowned at the sword in Arthur’s hands. “You don’t think the nutter was telling the truth?”

Alator was deranged. But he’d said some things when Merlin had been kidnapped that indicated otherwise. Perhaps he was a seer, like Morgana. 

“I don’t know,” Arthur confessed.

“Whatever, let’s go,” Leon instructed. He had the plans out. “Lance, are you staying here or coming with us?”

“I’ll have to stay here. It’ll be noticed if I go. Even with whatever you’ve done to the monitors. And you’ll need me to unlock the gate when you come back up. I’ve got a van ready that we can use to get people out of here. So, do you know the way?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck!” Lance told them.

“You too,” Arthur replied. 

They took the stairs down. Lifts were too easy to get trapped in. All that anyone would need to do would be to press the emergency stop and they’d be sitting ducks. 

Lance’s plans had said that the first basement level was mostly experimental labs. He’d not seen anyone held there. It was the sub-basement where Merlin and Morgana were trapped, so that was where they headed.

“What a way to spend a Saturday night,” Gwaine commented as they headed down the final flight of stairs. 

“Shhh,” Elyan whispered back.

They stopped at the doorway to the sub-basement. So far they had seen nobody except Lance. They were all aware that luck couldn’t hold.

Leon and Arthur peeped quickly through the small glass window in the door, then ducked down again.

“The room we want is right down the other end of the corridor,” Leon explained. “I can see one guard down there. They’ll see us right away, and they’re certain to sound the alarm. But this is the only way out, so they’re trapped. We get down there, overpower the guard, and use the door code Lance wrote on the maps.”

“Have they got a gun?” Elyan asked. “Because this is a fairly narrow corridor. I don’t like our chances.”

“I’ll go first,” Arthur announced. “Follow me.”

And before they could argue, he opened the stairwell door and charged down the corridor, sword held aloft. 

The guard had been dozing in his chair. The noise of the group’s feet as they ran down the corridor towards him startled him into wakefulness and he almost fell off his chair in shock. It took him a moment or two to recover his senses, and start to scrabble for his gun. By then Arthur was almost on him. The man barely had time to yell for help before Arthur had knocked him to the ground.

“Don’t kill me!” the guard begged. “God, who still carries swords? Don’t kill me!”

“We’re not going to kill you,” Elyan told him. “Just stay down. Okay?” He reached down to take the man’s gun. 

Leon was at the cell door, methodically tapping in the code.

Nothing happened.

Leon tried it again. Again, the door didn’t open.

“It’s the wrong code,” he growled. “Damn!” He regarded the door. “There’s no way we can break this down.”

“What’s the correct code?” Elyan demanded from the guard.

“I don’t know!” the man gasped. “I just have to sit there, I don’t go in.”

Leon was trying the code a third time. 

“It’s still not… oh shit!”

The third incorrect inputting of the door code had triggered an alarm. Sirens were blaring, and all down the corridor emergency lights were flashing. They had moments before any security guards in the building would be all over them. 

“Now what do we do?” Will asked. “Come on, you’re Leon Knight off the telly! What do we do?”

Leon shook his head. “I don’t know! Get out?”

“Not without Merlin and Morgana!” Arthur snarled. In his hands, the sword was starting to glow again. He looked at it, then at the door, then back at the sword. “Worth a try,” he decided. “Stand back, Leon.”

“Arthur, you can’t possible think you’ll be able to cut through that door with a _sword_!” Leon exclaimed, but he stepped back anyway when his friend raised the sword above his head and then brought it down hard on the locking mechanism. “Holy shit!”

“Maybe that really _is_ Excalibur?” Gwaine wondered, wide-eyed.

The sword had cut right through the lock, clean as anything. The door to the cell swung open.

“Oh my god, the smell!” Elyan put his hand over his mouth. At his feet, forgotten, the guard saw his opportunity, got up and ran back down the corridor. Nobody bothered to stop him.

The cell was dark and gloomy. Arthur peered inside, his eyes trying to adjust.

“Merlin?”

And then suddenly Merlin was there, rushing into his arms.

“Arthur! Oh, Arthur!”

There was only time for the briefest of kisses, although Merlin didn’t let go of him.

“I knew you’d come for us! Oh my god, you’re all here!”

“We are, and we have to get out of here!” Leon told him. He yelled into the cell, where pale faces were starting to move into the light from the doorway. “All of you need to come with us!”

“Leon set off the alarm,” Gwaine explained to Merlin. “Good to see you, mate.”

“You too,” Merlin still had one arm around Arthur. “And you, Will, Elyan.”

“I was bored,” Elyan told him. “Couldn’t have Arthur taking all the glory.”

“Come _on!_ ” Leon yelled again.

Arthur hardly dared ask the other question, the impossible one that he still could hardly believe was true. But the prisoners weren’t moving, and there was a real chance that they wouldn’t be able to save them all immediately.

“Morgana?” he called softly into the darkness. “Are you in there?”

A tall figure stepped forth from the shadows, pale and thin, her long dark hair hanging limply around her shoulders. Beside her was a woman who could have been her twin, except she looked slightly younger and less dishevelled, and far more nervous.

Merlin grinned at him, nodding. “Morgana’s alive.”

Arthur could hardly believe it. He let go of Merlin, taking a step towards his sister.

And then all hell broke loose.

At the far end of the corridor the door burst open and a group of black-clad security guards came rushing out. They were brandishing handguns, aiming them ready to fire.

“Shit!” Leon started to herd them into the cell. “Everyone in! Move!”

A gunshot rang out, then another. Arthur grabbed Merlin and shoved him back into the cell, following after. He saw Gwaine throw himself inside, saw Elyan duck inside to relative safety. Leon was trying to push the door shut.

“Will!” Merlin cried.

Arthur could see Will lying out in the corridor, unmoving, blood rapidly pooling beneath him. Bullets were still being fired and the guards were almost upon them. Any attempt to reach him would be suicidal. Still Merlin was struggling to get free of Arthur so that he could try.

“Will!”

“We can’t do anything!” Arthur hissed at him. “If you go out there they’ll just shoot you too.”

Merlin stilled in his arms. “I don’t care,” he said. “He’s been my friend my entire life.”

“You can’t do anything to help him,” Arthur repeated. “Just… wait.”

Beyond the guards Arthur could see Agravaine approaching, along with two women and a scar-faced blonde man. Just for once Agravaine wasn’t smiling.

“Arthur. Two evenings in a row. I’ll have to put out a restraining order on you or something!”

“Let us go, Uncle,” Arthur attempted. “That man needs to get to hospital.”

Agravaine looked down distastefully at Will’s body. “Oh, I think it’s going to be a little late for that. And I’d worry about yourself if I were you.”

“You really want to add murder to your list of crimes?” Arthur asked. “Seriously?”

“I think that ship’s well and truly sailed,” one of the guards, a tall, dark-haired man, laughed. “You think you’d be the first?” He looked back at Agravaine. “You want me to finish this, Sir?”

Agravaine did smile then. “Thank you Cenred, just a few moments. Nimueh,” he looked at the brunette woman beside him, “you’ll need to take some samples, I think.”

She shook her head. “That can be done afterwards. Kill them.”

Cenred raised his gun.

“We’ll be missed,” Leon pointed out, not bothering with any false modesty. “I’m quite well-known.”

“Indeed you are,” Agravaine agreed. “Your clone will be most fortunate. They all will. Well, up until the point that your robot driver taking you all back to the studio malfunctions and they all go up in a blaze of glory. Sadly there will be no way to ever tell whether or not the passengers were yourselves or clones. There’ll be no bullet holes in the clones, of course. Nothing to implicate Du Bois at all. Just that faulty Pendragon machine. Such a shame. I’ll be heartbroken, naturally. My dear nephew. Tragic.”

“Merlin,” Arthur heard Morgana whisper, “take my hand. Take Arthur’s hand too.”

Arthur couldn’t see what that was possibly going to achieve, but he just went with it. If he was going to die then at least it would be with the two people he loved most in the world right there at his side. To lose them both a second time would have been unbearable. He gave Merlin’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

In his other hand, Excalibur was gently glowing once more. 

“Hands,” he heard Morgana say. “Join together. Everyone.”

He could see Gwaine holding on to Emily’s hand, Elyan moving to take a place between two men standing behind her. 

“What’s she doing?” Arthur asked Merlin. He shrugged.

“I don’t know, Arthur. She’s your sister, she’s going to be a bit bonkers, isn’t she? She’s great though. They all love her in here.”

The sword was glowing far brighter, lighting the entire room. Arthur could see just how many people were in there, trapped in that place. There were no proper beds, no sanitary facilities to speak of. It was inhuman.

“Arthur,” Morgana instructed. “Raise the sword.”

It suddenly seemed less ridiculous. The weapon was glowing too brightly to look at as he held it up. Faintly he thought he could hear gunshots, but there was no impact, no pain, just a vague sensation of something like fine sand being flung at him, leaving no trace.

“Arthur…” he heard Merlin say. 

And then, suddenly it was over. The sword faded back to its natural silver sheen, the blinding light gone. Overhead the ceiling lights were all on, keeping the room lit. Arthur blinked, trying to clear the burn from his eyes, still dazzled by the sword.

“That was amazing!” Elyan exclaimed. “Arthur, what did you do?”

“Saved us, that’s what!” Gwaine crowed. He pushed the door back open properly to reveal the corridor beyond. All the guards were lying on the floor, out cold. Or Arthur hoped they were out cold. They weren’t moving.

“They shot you!” Leon told him. “The bullets seemed to shatter in the air. And then there was this sort of shock wave, it went out of us.”

“Out of _all_ of us, it felt like,” Elyan added.

“Yes,” Leon agreed. “It came from all of us together, and it went out there. They all collapsed.”

“Merlin drew on all of our magic,” Morgana explained.

“I did?” Merlin asked. “Really?”

“Well, the sword did really. But if you weren’t such a strong magic user it wouldn’t have been possible.”

“But I’m not magic,” Elyan pointed out.

“It would have taken something. Courage, strength. Different sorts of magic.”

“Hah! Wait till I tell Gaius!”

Arthur wanted to smile at the delighted grin on Elyan’s face at that news. But he had to know one important thing. “Are they dead?”

Some of the guards seemed to be stirring very slightly. Agravaine was unconscious, though Arthur could see his chest rise and fall. Definitely alive then. 

“I don’t think so,” Arthur confirmed. “I hope not.”

The two women were both down but starting to struggle up into a sitting position. Nimueh was recovering faster, already trying to get back on her feet.

“She’s the most powerful one,” Merlin warned. 

“She’s a high priestess,” Morgana told them. “Arthur, that sword is the only way to kill her.”

“ _Kill_ her?” Arthur repeated incredulously. “I can’t do that!”

“She’ll kill all of us if you don’t,” Morgana warned. 

But it was too late. Nimueh was already standing again, facing them, her face full of fury. “You dare strike down a high priestess of the old religion? Do you know who I am? My heritage? I come from a bloodline that can be traced back all the way to the dawn of the earth!”

“Um, technically so can everyone else,” Gwaine pointed out. “Not unique, love.”

“How dare you!” Nimueh raised her hand, her eyes glowing molten gold. The smile faded from Gwaine’s face and he started to choke, just a cough at first, then he started clawing at his throat. “You shall pay for your insolence! All of you will! And first…”

Arthur stared down at the sword. The hilt was still in his hands, but the blade, dripping with blood, was lodged in Nimueh’s abdomen. She was gazing back at him, the gold fading from her dying eyes. 

“Arthur…” she gasped. 

And then she was gone. Vanished into thin air, just a handful of dust to show she was ever there.

Arthur looked around, confused. “Where did she go?”

The blonde woman was sitting up. She made no attempt to stand. “You killed her,” she stated. “She was nearly a thousand years old. High priestesses don’t shrivel and die like mortals. Only a sword forged in a dragon’s breath could have killed her. _That_ sword,” she added. 

Beside her, the scar-faced man was starting to awaken. He looked around, groaned, and then closed his eyes again. Will, still bleeding out, was starting to make a horrific gurgling noise each time he breathed in. He couldn’t have long left. Merlin rushed over to him, kneeling at his side.

“Will, hang on.”

“Morgause,” Morgana said to the blonde woman. “Do I need to ask my brother to destroy you too, or are you going to wait quietly for the authorities?”

Morgause shook her head. “I’m done. I was done a while back, really.

“Should have left, then,” Merlin glared back at Morgause, then pointed down at Will. “You could do just one good thing in your life. All those times you’ve used your magic to do harm. We’re not supposed to do harm. It’s a gift.”

“It’s a curse,” Arthur heard Morgana say under her breath.

She was alive, she had her life before her once more. But the terrors in the night that had driven her to an early grave would still occur. No matter how much her family loved her, that wasn’t going to change.

Morgause crawled over to Will, then knelt beside him.

“Give me your hand,” she instructed Merlin. 

He didn’t move, still regarding her with hate in his eyes.

“I’m not as strong as you. Give me your hand if you want him saved.”

Stony-faced, Merlin did as he was bid.

It was incredible to watch. Arthur caught his breath as a soft yellow glow started to form around the two magic users joined hands. It grew, moving downwards towards Will’s body, continuing to expand until it covered him completely in a gentle cocoon of light. When it faded a few moments later Will was breathing normally. He still had a deathly pallor, but that was hardly surprising given the blood loss. Even as Arthur watched, Will’s colour began to improve slightly.

Merlin breathed a massive sigh of relief, smiling down at his friend, then back at Arthur.

“Happy?” Morgause snapped at him. 

“Thank you,” Merlin replied. “That’s what healing magic should be used for. Not what you’ve been doing. You should be saving people.”

“Well it’s served you well,” she pointed out. “You wouldn’t be here now if we hadn’t brought you back!”

At the far end of the corridor Arthur could see that the police had arrived, including officers with the red uniforms of the magic division. And right in their midst, striding purposefully towards him, was his father.

The body cams must have been filming everything. Arthur felt a peculiar mix of fear and relief. Relief, because everything was out in the open. Merlin and Morgana were safe, as were their friends. Mithian could carry on with her bill, the law would change. Percival would have Emily back in his life, and perhaps she would be able to play a prominent part in helping to prove that clones could become sentient. But Arthur had killed Nimueh, even if he couldn’t remember doing so, even if she was trying to kill Gwaine at the time. There would still be a price to pay, most likely imprisonment. His father would probably disown him. The shame…

“Arthur!” Uther exclaimed as he reached him. “Thank god, for a while there I thought I might have lost you too!”

And to Arthur’s surprise, his father pulled him into a hug. 

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Arthur muttered. “After what I did.”

“Of _course_ I care! You’re my son! And what do you mean? You were so brave, facing down that woman. There’s an international search for her starting up, goodness knows where she’ll have gone, vanishing like that.”

“Vanishing…” Arthur repeated dazedly. “Everyone saw her vanish?”

“Yes, of course. Quite incredible. But Arthur,” Uther moved back, still holding him by the forearms, “your sister. Did you find her?”

Arthur frowned because surely Morgana would have shown up on the body cam footage? He looked back into the cell just to check he wasn’t imagining things. But no, there she was. He could see her standing behind him, watching them. Leon was at her side, smiling, but Morgana looked afraid. She was touching her face, her hair, her ragged clothes…

“Yes,” Arthur said. “Merlin found her.”

“Alive? It was true? She’s alive? Where…?” Uther turned to follow Arthur’s gaze. Arthur caught the exact moment when his father recognised the woman at Leon’s side. “Oh, my dearest, beautiful girl, is it really you?”

Morgana glanced nervously at Leon, who gestured for her to go to Uther. It had to be hard for her, Arthur realised. She’d been locked in there for so long with the cruellest of people commanding her fate. The pain that Merlin and Mordred had described… how many times had she been through that? 

But for once their father was doing the right thing, the instinctive thing. He did love them both in his own strange way, Arthur realised, watching as Uther reached out for his daughter. It was unusually thoughtful and considerate of him. But then she did look terrified and perhaps Uther realised that if he’d just grabbed hold of her like he had Arthur moments before then it would traumatise her further. As it was, after a moment or two of hesitation, Morgana walked into his arms and began to cry.

Arthur had never, ever seen Uther try to comfort anyone else. But he was trying with the fragile Morgana, telling her things would be all right, that she was safe and could come home. Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

He looked across at Merlin, who was still sitting with Will. Gwaine had joined them. Will was sitting up, looking around dazedly. He was still deathly pale, and his shirt was drenched in blood. But he was talking to Gwaine. He would be okay. Merlin, seeing Arthur look, got to his feet and walked over to him.

“He’s okay?” Arthur asked.

“He will be. What about you?” Merlin looked down at the sword. “Where on earth did you get that from?”

“Your fan club,” Arthur admitted. “No really, those people who kept hanging around outside the flat. The one who thought you were the second coming!”

Merlin frowned. “But it _is_ a magic sword? May I?” he held out his hand and took the sword, turning it over. “This is amazing, Arthur. I can feel the power. Can’t you feel it?”

“Yes,” Arthur admitted. “It feels as if it were made for me.” 

“But it’s incredibly old,” Merlin told him. 

“I don’t know. It just felt right.”

Merlin regarded it for a moment or two longer, then handed it back. “Perhaps you have some latent magic ability too? Do you have to give it back? Is it yours now?”

Arthur shook his head. “I have no idea. I’m sure if it has to be returned then Alator will turn up chanting and praying and tell me that the stars have aligned since the dawn of time to insist that I return it at that precise moment. Or something!”

They laughed at that, heads bent close together. Arthur felt something heal inside him, something that had broken when Merlin had been taken from him. He leaned closer, stealing a quick kiss that turned into a deeper, loving one.

“I stink,” Merlin whispered against his lips. “I’m gross.”

“You’re perfect,” Arthur assured him. “I love you just how you are.”

He saw Merlin’s eyes widen in surprise, and then watched his face break into a huge, delighted smile.

“You love me.”

“Yes. Don’t get cocky about it.”

“Mmm…” Merlin didn’t seem to be able to stop smiling. “You love me.”

“Adore you. Shut up.”

“Nice. What a prat. All the time, when I was in here, all I could think about was you.”

“Even with the handsome guard you were slipping notes to?”

“Didn’t notice him.”

He wasn’t going to say it, Arthur realised. Well, it was early days. Plenty of time. Their whole lives.

Merlin nudged him with his shoulder, shy and playful. “Love you too, just so you know.” 

Arthur smiled, and leaned in for another kiss. 

He knew.

\---

The arrests, the questions, the start of the police investigation… all of it took hours. It was almost midnight before people started being told that they were told that they were free to go. 

Arthur, Merlin and Morgana were among the last. For Morgana it was just the very first interrogation that she would have to sit through. The charges against Du Bois were endless, and she was the star witness. Merlin would have to endure the same.

Uther had gone earlier, and sent along a car with one of the Pendragon robots to drive Arthur home. Completely safe, just like the company would be. There would be no merger with Aredian, Arthur was sure of that.

Morgana was to stay at Arthur’s that night. Gwen had gone over with a bag of essentials and a promise of a shopping trip. Morgana would probably like Gwen, Arthur thought. But that was all still to come. They’d worry about a permanent base for her much later. And look for proper help, magic users who could train her properly to use her skills. Things wouldn’t be the way they were before, not ever again.

“I never once saw the rest of this building,” Morgana commented as they walked up the stairs towards reception. “All that time and the only place I ever saw were a few labs and that dank cell. I used to sing to myself. Whenever they locked up alone, I’d sing. They hated it. So I did it more. Sometimes I thought that if I sang loudly enough I’d drive the guards to distraction and they’d throw me out. Or at least take me up here.”

“I heard a woman singing when I was here the first time,” Merlin told her. “Perhaps it was you? If only I’d known.”

“I knew,” she smiled as Arthur pushed open the door to reception. “I always knew you’d come one day. Both of you. If I hadn’t… well, I would have lost my mind.”

It was always going to be a danger with her, Arthur thought. He didn’t smile back. She would always be a concern. But he was always going to be there for her. 

“You know,” Morgana said softly as they approached the exit door, “I haven’t seen the sun in two years. I almost feel afraid.”

“You’re not going to see it now,” Arthur told her. “It’s night-time.”

“Ah no, you’re wrong,” she replied, stepping through the door. “Look.” 

Up in the heavens above them, spread out like a glittering carpet were so many stars. Du Bois were a little way out of the city, and the light pollution wasn’t too bad there.

“A million suns,” Morgana breathed. “They came out for us. So beautiful. I hope everyone saw them.”

For a few minutes Arthur and Merlin watched as she stood there, taking it in, breathing the fresh air, gazing at the night sky.

And then she walked with them away from the place that had held her for so long, and began to live her life again.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Thank you for reading. I will probably add one additional chapter as an epilogue in a few weeks, just very briefly revisiting all the characters some years later. Jacob and Mordred in particular as they couldn't have a conclusion in the main story, although there is a small hint as to Jacob's happy ending. Or I think there is. I've sort of lost track. But right now I am suffering from lack of sleep (I posted this at 7.15am after pulling an all-nighter to get it finished before amnesty week ended) and don't want to even think about writing!   
> Note to self: Next year, if the mods allow you back, write an ACBB with 25001 words. No more.


End file.
